Against All Odds
by Dramione96
Summary: He's a sexy and groomed self-made millionaire. She's just a simple girl trying to make ends meet. So what happens when an innocent girl ends up working for a globally renowned sex symbol? If the two can survive a heap of unforgettable mishaps & a sequence of bitter and sweet events - then voila! A love story that goes against all odds.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the elements of Harry Potter itself, however I do take credit for the storyline of this story and the makeup of extra characters. **

**EXTRA TIDBITS: Go to my profile page and please participate in the poll to let me know whether you want this story to have an angsty/tragic ending, or a happy ending. I myself adore happy endings, but one should always try new things, don't you think? Anyways, that's all I have to add now. Also, if you have any ideas for this story, message me so that I can mull things over! =)**

**OFFICIAL CHAPTER DEDICATION: _NoLongerAMember2009_ for being the first to put me on Author Alert!**

**CHAPTER 1 - Flashing Lights**

**...**

Draco flashed dazzling grins at the glinting cameras and hordes of reporters that crowded around him as he stepped out of his new company's grand inauguration. Behind him, Blaise shuffled out and offered the ravenous press small smiles, but Draco knew that Blaise loathed being photographed.

They had just finished officially sealing the deal on "Sinful", an ambitious and radical company that was to become a monster in the material world. Draco and Blaise had founded it with the explicit wish of demolishing all other corporations in fields consisting of (but not limited to) perfumes, clothing lines, jewelry, and even lingerie. The two had excitedly come up with the idea of "Sinful" a year after graduating from Hogwarts; afterwards, both boys had diligently worked to attain prestigious degrees in International Magical Business and Commerce by taking the incredibly difficult MBEs (Magical Business Examinations) and receiving internships from some of England's wealthiest industries. Once Draco had garnered the essential financial resources and Blaise had rounded up an adequately sized and qualified labor team, it had been announced that the heirs of two of Europe's oldest wizarding families were to combine their brains and talents in order to create one of the finest and strongest companies of all time. Well, once _that_ news had gotten around, there had been simply no end to the camera flashes and the torrent of questions and requests for press conferences. Draco had actually learned to enjoy the unwavering attention quite a bit. The only one who had seemed to have an aversion to fame and popularity was Blaise, and this fact was revitalized as the dashing young men found themselves surrounded yet again.

"Come on mate," Draco said, making his way down the marble steps and all the while winking at any female he found even remotely attractive. "It isn't so bad. You'll have to get used to this if you expect to work with me for the rest of your life."

Blaise hastened to Draco's side and mumbled as he averted his eyes from the bustling throngs, "I still don't like all of this publicity. Even though I know it's a big deal that we've finally pulled through with 'Sinful', I wish we didn't have to go through this pack of wolves every single time we accomplished something. I really think they only come here just to snap away pictures of us and put them in _Playwitch_."

Draco chuckled at his friend's disgruntled words while they both strode down the pavement towards the ornate iron gates. "Oh, and how often do you peruse the issues of _Playwitch_, Zabini? Sounds to me like you've developed a dangerously emasculating hobby…"

Blaise lightly punched the blonde and rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Draco. If there's anyone here with a masculinity problem, it's you. Merlin knows I'm amazed you haven't hit on anyone here yet!"

"No girl here is good enough to tempt me," Draco said haughtily. "It takes more than just a pretty face to lure Draco Malfoy."

"Oh yes, you're right," Blaise scoffed. "She also has to have breasts the size of cauldrons and a waist narrower than a quill. Really, Draco, let's not forget Precious Jameson, the woman you were so deeply enamored with, you forgot to notice that she had something you're _very_ familiar with between her legs until it was too late!"

Draco felt himself turn a faint shade of pink as he remembered the horrendous fiasco involving a glamorous strawberry blonde. Everything had been moving along swimmingly until they'd headed up to his bedroom in order to, er, enjoy some quality time. Who could have predicted that Precious would have turned out to be some sort of treacherous, twisted hermaphrodite! _Well, Drake, _he thought to himself with a shudder as Blaise continued to chuckle beside him. _That's what you get for hitting on someone named PRECIOUS._

The two young men made their way through the last of the rabid reporters and gracefully pivoted once before vanishing with a loud _pop_! A second later, they reappeared in one of the Malfoy Manor's many exquisitely furnished lounges. Blaise immediately reached for a glass and the bottle of firewhiskey lying on the table as Draco threw himself into a leather armchair.

Blaise took a long swig from his brimming glass before wiping his mouth and asking, "What's the matter, Drake? You're quiet."

Draco shrugged. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all. These constant conferences and all have been tedious at best."

Blaise nodded sympathetically. He himself had gone through the same torture alongside his best mate, and he could honestly say that he absolutely hated the media more often than not these days. "Maybe we need a night off," he suggested. "It's been a while since we've taken a break from all the pizzazz. In fact, Theodore's told me about a fun little nightclub in London called _Wicked_. Sounds intriguing enough, don't you think?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at the mention of their old acquaintance's name. "Theodore? You mean, Theodore Nott? I didn't know he was still lurking around these parts."

"He's quite reserved and a bit of an introvert, really. He prefers to stay away from publicity and live a quiet life of bachelorhood. I think that he was once rumored to have been sleeping with some Ministry bigwig, but that one got cleared up in less than a heartbeat after Theodore discreetly threatened to shut down the _Prophet_."

"Hmm. Interesting."

"Yes, very much so. But aside from that, what do you think about hitting up that club tonight?"

Draco stretched out his long limbs and nodded after a brief moment of consideration. "That sounds good. It has been quite a while since we've emerged from our figurative shells and actually enjoyed ourselves. And," he added with a smirk, "I and my poor bed have been getting rather lonely. Maybe I should entertain some company tonight, eh?"

Blaise rolled his eyes at his friend's lecherous expression. "Hold on, mate," he snickered. "You mean to tell me even your wretched hand has failed you? Ah, what a shame! I mean, now that I think about it, your right arm does seem to be getting a little out of shape…"

Draco wordlessly snatched three small glasses from the table in front of him and hurled them in quick succession at Blaise's head. Blaise, fortunately possessing rapid reflexes, ducked accordingly and shielded his head from the fragments of glass that were ricocheting off the wall behind him.

As a miniscule house-elf materialized in order to clean up the mess, the handsome, dark-haired boy remained crouching on the floor and snarled, "Was that really necessary?"

Draco sat back and examined his fingernails before snootily replying, "Well, you were the one who said my right arm is getting out of shape, so I decided to rev it up into action. Any objections?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes and gave a little snort of derision as he got to his feet and dusted off the shimmery sprinkles on his broad shoulders. "I'll expect to meet up with you here at around nine, all right? Try not to lose track of time as you coat yourself with your mummy's makeup."

Draco chose to ignore the parting jab while Blaise clambered into the flickering green flames of the fireplace and threw a handful of Floo powder into the logs. With a shout of "Zabini Residence!", Blaise whirled into thin air, leaving behind an amused Draco. Deciding to get prepared for the night's events, Draco quickly apparated to his room, fleetingly reveling in his supreme wealth and luxury – the entire chamber (about the size of the Great Hall of Hogwarts) was tiled with polished black marble. Dangling from the center of the highly ornate ceiling was a beautiful silver chandelier, and a short distance away from it was an enormous seashell-shaped bed. The firm high-rise mattress was covered with multiple silk sheets and a lush, thick, emerald set of covers that seemed to be singing Draco's name. Resisting the urge to dive into bed and drown in sleep, he ambled over to his immense walk-in closet and produced a charcoal gray buttoned shirt, tailored slacks, and a pair of murderously expensive shoes.

Once he had reassured himself that he looked gorgeous no matter what he wore - _Merlin, Draco, you could waltz in wearing a ball gown and people would still call you the epitome of manliness – _he strode over to his meticulously designed bathroom and stripped down to his birthday suit. Then, he jumped into the shower, eager to wash away all traces of his boring business persona and to get ready for an incredible night out.

After all, he was Draco Malfoy…what could possibly go wrong in the course of a few hours?

...

Hermione Granger was surrounded by women. Loads of women. In fact, she wasn't just surrounded by loads of women…she was surrounded by loads of beautiful women. In case you're wondering, no, she was not at some sordid whorehouse, nor was she beginning to "bat for the other team". She was simply standing in line at a studio, waiting to have a blatantly gay photographer snap shots of her. Every three minutes or so, a disgruntled girl would stomp out of the studio, cursing the photographer and vowing to shove her stilettos up his – well, you get the gist of it.

To be frank, it was a disheartening sight. In fact, Hermione was seriously starting to wonder what on earth she was even doing, standing in that line. It was only until one of her best friends, Andrea Lowski, indifferently rolled her eyes that she realized that she had spoken this thought aloud.

"Don't whine to me, Herms," Andrea warned as she swished her long dirty-blond hair over her shoulder. "This is one hell of an opportunity, and I am _not_ going to let you bungle it up."

"I'm not whining," Hermione protested, even though she knew she was. "It's just that I'm not feeling too good watching girl after girl leave with slips of rejection in their hands. What makes you think I'm honestly the right kind of person for this?"

Andrea scoffed at Hermione's words and rummaged through her designer purse to extract a small tube of lipstick. She quickly dabbed on some color onto Hermione's lips before saying, "Honey, those dames don't have what the agency wants. Sure, they may be gorgeous, but they don't have that spark that really hooks someone in, you know?" She gave Hermione a solid once-over before continuing, "You're the type that gets picked for this sort of stuff. You're a good height, you've got the face, but what you've really got going for you is that personality of yours – I mean, you would be just another pretty girl if you weren't who you are, you know? For example, your eyes: they're brown, the most common eye color on the planet. But, your extraordinary intelligence and kindness shine through those eyes, causing those otherwise nondescript pools of murky brown to morph into brilliant, warm, chocolate orbs."

Hermione blinked at this rather unexpected and poetic speech, causing the other girl to shake her head and mutter, "Nah, don't worry about it. I think I used the word 'you' too many times in that pep talk anyways."

As yet another young lady threw herself out of the studio, Hermione felt herself slowly approaching the entrance to the photo shoot. _Does this really have to happen, _she complained in her head. _I've never thought of myself as some exotic beauty, and it is obvious that the photographer wants someone special. I should have slammed the door in Andrea's face when she'd shown up at my flat that one day. God knows that I could have avoided getting myself dragged into this sort of mess! But really, who knew she'd be so blunt as to directly address my monetary problems? And it's not like I had much time to think! Being with Andrea is kind of like being thrown into a hurricane of movement and energy – she's just so active and deliberate with everything!_

Despite her slight pessimism, Hermione smiled softly to herself as she thought back to the day when Andrea had arrived at her doorstep, fully ready to rescue Hermione from the dreaded black hole of fiscal deficiency.

**FLASHBACK**

Hermione sat down at the small table in her apartment's kitchen and buried her face in her hands. To her left was a crumpled up piece of parchment with a few scribbles on it, while to her right sat a moderately sized scroll embellished with the official seal of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. As her tears rushed down between her fingers, Hermione heard someone knock loudly on her door. Struggling to compose herself and put on a mask of pleasantness, she hurriedly walked to her door and peered through the little hole to see who had shown up. With a small sigh, she turned the knob and allowed Andrea to happily skip inside - clearly the light-haired sprite was simply bursting with some good news.

Andrea dashed forward to plant a light kiss on Hermione's cheek as she gleefully exclaimed, "Well, Hermy darling, I've done it! I've finally gotten myself that job with the modeling agency I've been chasing all these months!"

Hermione threw her arms around her friend and heartily congratulated her. "Why, that's fantastic! I'm so happy for you! Of course, they would have been mad to have not given you the job, so this comes as to no surprise."

Andrea grinned like a Cheshire cat and plopped her petite body down on the maroon-colored couch next to her. "It's been hell, I tell you. Having to beg and grovel at the manager's feet was less than amusing, but I suppose it all turned out to be worth it in the end. After all, in what other job can you get paid for spending time with glorious, god-like men?"

Hermione laughed at Andrea's absurdly dreamy expression but realized that her laughter was sounding hollow. She closed her eyes for a moment as the blonde chattered on, willing herself to keep up a satisfactory appearance and to not rain on her friend's parade. Yes, it was a bit of a blow to hear that Andrea had managed to get her career underway while Hermione herself was still struggling to meet ends, but that was no reason to ruin someone else's happiness.

"Hermione?"

Hermione quickly opened her eyes to see Andrea observing her with half-concern and half-exasperation. "What? Oh, sorry. I must have spaced out."

"Yes, I noticed. Herms, what's wrong? You're not acting yourself. And Merlin, would you look at those gray patches under your eyes…something is up! Now spill!"

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose as she thought back to the two letters lying on her table. One had been from her mother, asking her to send more money for medication. The other had been a regretful letter from one of the heads of St. Mungo's, a Healer Banks, informing her that she could not apply for the Preliminary Healer Certification Examinations without paying the rest of her tuition within two months.

"It's…nothing, Andi. It's just been a rather rough day."

"Well, explain!" cried Andrea as she leapt to her feet and stuck her hands on her hips. At 5'2'', she wasn't exactly a looming giant, but the expression on her face was enough to make anyone flinch. "I demand to know why you're so down in the dumps."

When Hermione did not comply with the direct command, Andrea knelt in front of her and took the silent girl's hands in her own. "Come on, Hermione," she whispered. "Tell me so that I can help you."

Hermione turned her head and replied in a slightly choked voice, "I don't think you _can_ help me. I don't want to make you feel obligated to do something for me, either."

"This isn't about obligations. This is about you and me figuring something out so that we can fix whatever is going wrong in your life. But nothing will happen if you refuse to talk! So, please, just tell me what's going on."

Tears filled Hermione's weary, brown eyes again as she took a deep breath and began to explain everything. "All right, well, the problems started a month after the War ended. Voldemort was gone, yes, and Death Eaters were rapidly becoming nonexistent, but many people were still faced with horrible futures. You know that I had to modify my parents' memories and hide them in Australia to prevent them from being harmed." Here, Andrea nodded. "Well, when I went back to get them after everything had been resolved, I found only my mother – I can still see her now, frozen in the living room and chanting my father's name over and over again. I grabbed her by the shoulders and asked her innumerable times where Daddy was, but all she managed to whisper was that he was dead."

A heavy sadness filled Hermione's voice as she swallowed the painful lump in her throat and continued speaking. "I searched for days. Not an hour, not a minute, not a second was spared as I searched and searched all over the land. I was even joined by an entire team: Ron, Harry, Fred, George, Luna, and Ginny…but it was to no avail. Finally, we discovered that my father had been k-killed in a car crash."

Andrea gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my god! I am so sorry! Oh, Herms…"

Hermione sniffled a little as she brushed away the teardrops clinging to her eyelashes. Then she steadied her shaking voice and trudged onwards with her tragic tale. "Mum lost all sense of purpose and joy after Dad died. She couldn't make herself eat or sleep or interact with anyone – all she did was stare day and night at a picture of Dad. We all wasted no time in making arrangements for her to return to England, and I refrained from letting myself go despite my own utter exhaustion with everything. The first thing we did when we got her back here was have her go to two different psych evaluations, one at St. Mungo's and the other at a Muggle hospital. A day later, the results came."

Hermione paused here and Andrea heard her friend valiantly stifle a sob.

"She – she was severely depressed," Hermione said feebly. "The doctors and Healers alike warned us that without proper medication, she would possibly begin to inflict harm upon others and herself. Those were the days when it began."

"When what began?" Andrea asked softly.

"When all my savings began to trickle away," Hermione replied, this time in a monotone. "Mum's antidepressants are extremely costly, and my stock of money wasn't exactly impressive in the first place. Of course, the gang tried to jump in and help by owling me checks every day, but I returned all of them with notes of gratitude. I couldn't just use their friendship like that. I don't want to be a parasite."

"You and your bloody Gryffindor pride," the former Hufflepuff irritably chided. "It couldn't have hurt just to have borrowed a little bit, right? No need to be all self-suffering."

"Andi, you know that there is no earthly way I'll be able to pay off all those loans within a reasonable time period," Hermione said in a rather sharp tone. "And here is the second half of my problems: if I do not find some way to pay the rest of my Healer course fees in the next two months, then I won't be able to take the final exams! Everything I've done these last few years will have been a complete waste!"

This impassioned declaration was met by a short silence before the other girl narrowed her eyes in deep contemplation and rose.

"Now, then…" Andrea muttered slowly as she began pacing the length of the room. "You could do it…maybe…but there is a small chance it might not work. Hmm, what should I…hmm…where would we…ah, maybe there! No, no, that wouldn't work…wait! Perhaps - "

"ANDREA LOWSKI!" Hermione interjected with an entirely nonplussed expression on her face. "Will you very kindly explain what, in the name of Merlin's pants, you are rambling on about?"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Andrea hastily apologized while taking Hermione by the shoulders and commencing to jabber on at high speed. "But, oooh, listen! I have the most fabulous idea. You will be 'discovered' by me, model scout extraordinaire, and then we'll take you to some fancy photo shoot somewhere where you shall enthrall everyone in sight and instantly become a mainstream media modeling sensation!"

"That. Is. Ridiculous."

"No! No, it's not!" Andrea fairly shouted as her pale blue eyes lit up. "It's an excellent plan. Look, you need some fast money and I would like a chance to prove my worth to the agency – it's the perfect job for both of us! Think about it: all you have to do is stand in front of a camera, wear glamorous outfits, and pout and smolder wherever needed! Where do you see a glitch in that?"

"For heaven's sake, Andi! I don't have a face that would frighten thestrals, but I've certainly never thought of myself as a beauty of any sort!" Hermione protested as she threw up her hands as if to ward away the pretty blonde.

"It doesn't matter," retorted Andrea. "Consider yourself discovered."

"But –" Hermione tried to argue.

"Oh, hush. Someday, you'll thank me."

And with that, still muttering to herself, Andrea departed as unexpectedly as she had arrived.

**END FLASHBACK**

_It had sounded like an excellent plan at the time,_ Hermione bitterly thought. _Now it just sounds like a recipe for disaster. I'm a brain, not a beauty! This isn't where I belong._

"Next," called a dull voice.

Hermione set her shoulders back and straightened her posture before stepping forward to receive a placard with the number 6241. Just before walking through the black velvet curtains which covered the studio entrance, she turned back to see Andrea wink at her and give her a double thumbs-up. Then, she swiveled her head back around, crossed her fingers, and entered the room of doom with a smile on her face.

Inside, a small beady-eyed man wearing deep purple robes snatched the placard out of her hands and jammed it into a slot in his camera. He then proceeded to nudge Hermione towards a set of white drapes that were obviously to serve as the background for her photos.

"Now then, darlin'," he said in an annoying nasally voice. "Let me see what we've got to work with 'ere."

He intently examined her, making her feel quite uncomfortable, and she avoided his unflinching gaze as he stroked the sparse collection of hairs sprouting from his weak chin. Finally, when he had completed his evaluation, he withdrew to bark some orders at a tight-lipped woman standing off to the side. Immediately, the woman scurried forward and adjusted tiny things on Hermione and her outfit, like the placement of a curl of hair, the amount of color in her cheeks, and the angle of her neck.

Once everything was set into place, the photographer ordered Hermione to pout a little bit and gaze as intensely as she could into the camera. Biting back a laugh as she did so, Hermione bore her eyes into the lens in front of her face and nonchalantly placed her hand on her hip as to slightly lower her short, beige dress. Then, just as the unnamed man's finger was about to press down on the shutter, he grinned a toothy, slightly yellow grin and said, "Congratulations, darlin'. You're in."

As the flash from the first photo died away, Hermione realized too late that her eyes had been overly wide in the picture due to her shock at being accepted. Oh, well. Couldn't be helped.

The next ten minutes consisted purely of brief instructions and camera flashes: _SNAP!_ "Place your hand in your hair." _SNAP! _"Turn around and look at me over your shoulder." _SNAP!_ "Open your arms to their widest point and throw your head back." _SNAP!_ "Lower your head and look up at the camera." _SNAP!_

After the rather obnoxious man decided he'd had enough photos, he waved his hand to dismiss Hermione, and she gratefully left the studio. Outside, she came face to face with an expectant Andrea who was standing with raised eyebrows and an expression of _Well-did-you-get-it-or-not_.

Hermione, still a bit stunned that she had been allowed to pass, decided to have a bit of fun with Andrea. Putting on her best face of dejection, she dropped her gaze to the floor and said slowly, "Oh, Andi…I didn't…I just didn't…"

Andrea, thinking that her friend would confirm the worst, put her arm around Hermione's waist and gave her a little side squeeze. "Herms, baby," she murmured sadly. "Don't worry, we'll find you something else. Those old blighters can go rot in buggery for all I care. Come on, let's get out of this stinking place."

"I didn't get rejected."

"Hermione, there's no point in crying over spilt milk! We need to find – wait, what?"

A bright smile seeped into Hermione's face as she repeated herself. "I said, I didn't get rejected."

Andrea's face instantly became a flurry of emotions as the words sank in: initial confusion, dawning comprehension, and then sheer delight. "MERLIN'S PANTS, HERMIONE!" she shrieked. "ARE YOU TELLING ME THEY ACCEPTED YOU?"

Hermione nodded gleefully. "Yes, yes, Andi! They did! I don't know how or why, but they did!"

The two girls clasped hands and jumped up and down, all the while squealing in excitement and ignoring the glares that the other women shot. As Hermione gave Andrea a huge hug, Andrea exclaimed, "This calls for a celebration, m'dear! There's a new club I've heard about and I've been dying to try it out! Join me tonight?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, basking in the warmth of sweet progress. "Count me in! I have a reason to celebrate, and I certainly don't want to sit inside tonight and count the number of cat hairs Crookshanks has shed on my rug."

"Excellent! Then I'll pick you up at eight, okay? Oh, by the way," Andrea added with a wink just before she disapparated. "Dress as sexily as you want. I want you to let your hair loose and really live it up this evening!"

As the telltale crack of Andrea's disapparition echoed through the modeling agency building's hallway, Hermione grinned at the place where her blonde friend had just stood and murmured, "Ah, I intend to do just that."

...

Well, my dear ladies and gentlemen, I have returned! I am terribly sorry if this beginning chapter sucks...I've been swamped with all sorts of work these days, and I think I'm getting a little wonky in the head. Let me know what you all think! And I've decided to start doing chapter dedications, so whoever reviews first will receive the official dedication for chapter 2!


	2. Chapter 2

**I REFUSE TO UPDATE BEFORE I SEE A TOTAL OF 40 REVIEWS FOR THIS STORY. DON'T WORRY, I'LL TYPE UP THE CHAPTER AND EVERYTHING, BUT I WON'T POST IT UNTIL A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE FOUR-OH POPS UP! XP**

**Apart from my outburst...thanks for all the kind reviews, guys! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well. And don't forget to visit my profile to vote on what kind of ending you'd like for this story!**

**OFFICIAL CHAPTER DEDICATION: _amazingtofu _for being my first reviewer!**

**CHAPTER 2 - Dancing on Broken Glass**

Hermione stood outside the loud, spacious nightclub feeling both apprehensive and excited. What with her being a pragmatic bookworm and all, she wasn't very used to participating in such late-night activities, and she had heard more than enough stories from her friends about all the incidents that happened in nightclubs, both good and bad. Luna had warned her that discos and the like were places of imminent disaster; however Ginny had dismissed Luna's dark descriptions by reassuring Hermione that partying and dancing all night long was the perfect way to relieve stress and really enjoy oneself.

_Whatever the case may be, I guess I'll never know until I get inside, _Hermione thought reasonably as the chattering line of entrants steadily moved forward to where a formidably buff bouncer was standing with his arms crossed and his eyes trained on each person passing through two enchanted pillars.

At Hermione's side was Andrea, dressed in a flattering light pink minidress that somehow managed to elongate her torso. The blonde bombshell was obviously raring to get inside, because she kept complaining about how slowly the line was moving.

"Ugh, this is ridiculous!" Andrea griped with a frown on her face. "By the time we reach that front door, we'll be senior citizens and won't even be able to dance anymore!"

Hermione chuckled at her friend's expression. "Merlin, Andi, don't complain so much. We're nearly there, and it's not like there won't be a single handsome guy inside if we get inside five minutes later."

"But what if the perfect Mr. Gorgeous is gone by the time I get in there! Oh, what a thought, what a thought…"

Hermione rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath as she briefly hopped on one foot to fix her high-heel straps. "Andi, trust me, you'll get your bloody Prince Charming tonight no matter what. And what the bloody hell were you thinking when you made me get into this outfit? I can hardly walk in these things!"

Andrea smirked. "_Now_ who's complaining? And shut up! You look stunning, and so help me, I will glue those shoes onto your feet if you utter another word about them tonight."

Hermione scowled as she carefully avoided any bumps in the pathway. When the two girls finally reached the entrance from where dry-ice smoke and pulsating beats were pouring out, the bouncer sort of twitched his massive bald head to the side to indicate that they were cleared to go through the pillars. They stepped through individually and walked into a veritable fantasyland of multicolored lights and resonant music.

All around Hermione was a mass of individually throbbing people swinging their leather-clad hips, stepping blithely on their feet, and bobbing their heads in time to the vibrant sounds echoing along the walls. The smoky darkness was punctured by funnel-shaped glasses filled with vividly colored drinks, and to the left of the giant room was a set of continually revolving private compartments where couples and friends were turning in and out of view. Golds glinted, silvers sparkled, acid greens blazed, and hot pinks flashed. Hermione almost lost her train of thought amidst all this dynamic energy and was elbowed in the ribs by a not-as-greatly-affected Andrea.

"What's wrong, doll?" Andrea laughed, her teeth appearing to be a rainbow of hues. "All this life too much for you?" She turned away and bounded down to where the DJ was, eager to finally let herself groove.

Hermione quickly shook her head to clear her thoughts before stepping down a couple of stairs into the raucous crowd. Immediately, she was jostled and shoved by a hundred people all at once as she tried to make her way to the significantly less populated bar. Gritting her teeth and sending a silent prayer to the gods, she pushed and scrambled through the dancers, once even accidentally ripping apart two wizards who were locked in a passionate embrace. Trying to both apologize and avoid turning back, Hermione yelled out something incomprehensible before finally freeing herself from the mob and throwing herself onto a leather barstool.

Almost the moment she managed to catch her breath, the bartender appeared in front of her and said, "Jeez, you look like you could use a drink. What would you like? It'll be on the house."

Still a bit winded, Hermione opened her mouth to order something and then closed it as it hit her that she had absolutely no idea what sort of drinks tasted good.

Instantly, someone else slid onto the stool next to her and smoothly responded, "How about two lemon drop martinis? I'll pay."

Hermione turned her head to meet her rescuer and nearly lost her breath all over again.

He was undeniably handsome, whoever he was. He had tousled brown hair that curled rather endearingly next to his hazel eyes, and a smile made up of gleaming white teeth. As he grinned at her, two equally adorable dimples came out of nowhere, and Hermione suddenly remembered that she had always had a thing for dimples.

"Uh…thank you," she mumbled, inwardly wincing as she realized that she sounded like she had the IQ of a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

The handsome man rotated in her direction, and Hermione caught a glance of smooth tan skin hiding behind the white collar of his shirt. _Give it a rest, Hermione_, she admonished herself as she felt her face heat up. _You don't even know his name and you're already fantasizing about him_.

The man stuck out his hand and smiled. "Hi, my name is Eric Crawford. I don't think I've seen you around here before – do you come here often?"

Hermione took his hand and shook it, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers. "Er, no. This is actually my first time here. I came with a friend, but she lost interest in me the moment we arrived, so I've been moping around here, waiting to be rescued." _Shut up! Shut up! You're babbling, Hermione!_

Eric laughed. "So here you are, a poor, lost lamb waiting for your caretaker to come and find you?"

Hermione nodded sheepishly before sitting up with a jolt. "Oh, goodness!" she exclaimed. "I haven't even introduced myself yet. Forgive me." With that, she cleared her throat and extended her hand towards him again. "Hello, my name is Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Eric."

Eric grabbed hold of her hand and earnestly peered into her eyes. "_The_ Hermione Granger?" he asked incredulously. "The one's who's called the most brilliant witch of our time…you're really her?"

Hermione again felt her cheeks turning red and said, "Yes, it is me."

"Good lord," he exclaimed in excitement. "Wait until I tell the boys this! I met _the_ beautiful Hermione Granger at a nightclub, and she actually had a conversation with me!"

At that moment, the bartender placed the martinis in front of them and took a couple of galleons from Eric, preventing Hermione from immediately answering. Once she had soothed her dry throat with the tangy citrus drink, she giggled and replied, "My, I had no idea I have such an admirer! And here I was thinking that everyone had forgotten about me." _Giggles? Honestly? Where has all your dignity gone, Hermione! You happen to meet a handsome man, and this is what you become? An airheaded ditz with no sense of propriety whatsoever? How lowly of you!_

Eric vehemently shook his head, causing his thick locks to slap the sides of his face. "No, no, Miss Hermione. You're still very, very popular. My friends and I consider you to be the best part of the legendary Golden Trio!"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief at the fact that she was still held in such high regard by some people, but willed herself to keep her ego in check. "Well, that's very sweet of you, Mr. Eric."

"Please, call me Eric. The name 'Mr. Eric' makes me feel like an old man."

"Eric, it is then. But in return, you must also call me Hermione."

Eric grinned down at her (had it been mentioned that he was also very tall?), and Hermione felt an unfamiliar thrill course up and down her spine.

"So, Eric," she said in an effort to keep her sanity and composure intact. "Where did you go to school? I don't remember ever seeing you in Hogwarts…"

"Oh, no, I went to Durmstrang," he said as he took a sip of his drink. "My parents wanted me situated far away from England for a while, so I ended up going to that school."

"Did you like it there?" Hermione asked curiously. The late Igor Karkaroff's school had been infamous for its dealings with dark magic, and for some reason, Hermione was having a difficult time imagining cheerful Eric have a good time there.

He shrugged as he traced the rim of his glass with his forefinger. "It wasn't exactly what I'd consider a phenomenal school. We Durmstrang students frequently found cause to envy the inhabitants of Hogwarts. And it didn't really help that I wasn't able to get all the support I needed to jumpstart my career."

Hermione rested her elbow on the marble counter and propped her head on her hand. "And what _do_ you do? Apart from charm ladies at nightclubs?"

Eric winked at her before saying, "I'm a Magitect. My father was actually the one who established the Magitecture field in the modern wizarding world, and I have decided to take up the job in order to turn it into a family business."

He glanced at Hermione's face and saw the shock written all over it. "Oh, honestly," he fake-pouted. Hermione unwittingly let her gaze rest on his lips for a second before making her eyes flash back to his. "Do I really look like I'm too stupid for a job like that?"

"No! It's just that…wow, it's just incredible. I don't think I even know anyone who works in that field. It's supposed to be one of the hardest professions out there alongside being an Auror or a Healer."

"Ah, don't let yourself be too amazed," he stated matter-of-factly. "Anyone can do it if he or she just bothers to read a few books and learn a few magical equations."

Hermione said nothing. She simply let it register in her brain that this man had to be very intelligent in order to do well in such a career. _Wow, stupefying looks, a good head on his shoulders, and natural charm. If only Andi were here to witness this!_

As the volume of the overhead music began to increase, Eric leaned over and said something incomprehensible.

Hermione had to practically yell to make herself heard. "What?"

"I said, do you want to head over to the private compartments for a bit of peace and quiet?" he shouted.

Hermione nodded, not bothering to let herself grow hoarse by shouting. Eric then took her by the hand and led her around the huge group of people in the middle of the club to the area where the revolving alcoves were. However, just as they stepped into a small, cozy enclosure furnished with red and dark purple items, someone called Eric's name.

Eric turned to face Hermione with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. Could you just wait here for a few minutes until I return?"

"Of course," she said as she gently nudged him in the side, trying not to let her fingers rest on his body. "Go ahead, I'll be here."

He solemnly placed a stray curl behind her ear and offered her another wink. "Thanks."

After he was gone, Hermione walked into the room and sat down on a plush, scarlet couch. She had barely closed her eyes to let her mind calm down for a moment when someone walked in and sighed, "Damn, he's going to kill m – Granger?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open at the sound of her name and focused on an attractive, dark-skinned young man.

"Zabini?"

...

Draco furiously stalked past a horde of simpering women as they attempted to surreptitiously drop their purses at his feet. This was _it_;this was the limit – Blaise had finally abandoned him one too many times. Sure, it was great having one-on-one time with a pretty girl, but did that mean that the guy had to completely vanish off the face of the earth? Could he not just stand by at some table and wait for his friend to finish up any extra business?

_That damned bastard has gone too far,_ he thought viciously as he dodged out of a big-boned girl's way.

Simmering with frustration, Draco managed to make his way through a long line of carefree dancers without hindrance, but then just as he was about to maneuver through another flock of tittering ghouls, a velvet purse flew over in a perfect arc and landed right in front of him with a loud _CHINK!_

A husky voice wafted through the air. "By Helga's cup, I seem to have dropped my money." This observation was met by a scattering of tinkling laughter. "I wonder if the man will be kind enough to pick it up and return it to me."

Refraining from baring his teeth at whatever dingbat was trying to lure him in, Draco reached down and picked up the purse with two fingers. _Oh, I'll return it to you, you gold-digging piece of… _

"Over here, gorgeous," the voice sounded from somewhere to Draco's right.

Draco lightly pivoted on his heel to meet the source of annoyance and came face to face with a raven-haired witch wearing a slinky, deep blue dress with a plunging neckline. Although he was ninety-nine percent sure he imagined it, her chest seemed to inflate ever so slightly as his eyes gave her the once over.

"Like what you see?" the witch trilled with a smirk as she put a hand on her hip.

Draco smirked in response and swung the purse by its strings at his side. "Well," he drawled. "On a scale of one to ten, I'd maybe give you a negative two."

The witch's mouth fell into a comically-shaped "O" while her friends discussed this insult in hushed whispers. "I'm sorry," she said in a breathy tone, still working to somehow entrance him. "I didn't realize I am so _unworthy_ of someone as heavenly as you. Tell me," she asked as she stretched her arms up in an effort to make her moderately-sized breasts perk up a bit more. "What would it take to snatch up a delectable specimen such as yourself?"

Draco almost laughed at her saccharine, hackneyed words, but instead drifted towards her so that he was only a few inches away and said, "You're not my type, darling. So why don't you take back the money you earn as a whore and use it to buy some better pick-up lines?"

And with that, he dropped the witch's money bag at her feet and walked away, whistling a merry tune to thoroughly tune out the girl's gasps and hisses of outrage.

After another few useless moments of searching for Blaise amongst the perpetually moving crowd, Draco extracted his wand from his pocket and said, "Invenio Blaise." Immediately, his wand began spinning rapidly on his palm before quivering to stop and pointing in a northwest direction.

"Figures," Draco grumbled as he gingerly stepped around a couple doing some form of grinding. "Of course the blighter would have to settle down in one of the private rooms, away from the rest of society. It'd be just like him to be lounging somewhere chatting up some girl, waiting for me to come and find him so that I can deliver the earful he so dearly deserves. I'll be damned if I let him slip away from me tonight!"

As soon as he uttered these words, Draco caught sight of Blaise sitting on a purple couch and laughing with some brown-haired witch. Muttering furiously to himself about the predictability of the vermin he called his friends, Draco strode towards the rotating recess, unaware that someone else was heading for the same destination.

Just as the doorway came into view again, Draco barged through it and paused only to be rammed into the shoulder by another man.

"Bloody hell," the unknown wizard said as he rubbed his nose with a grimace. "Who's the bloke with the steel shoulders?"

Draco indifferently replied, "That would be me." Then, he swiveled around and locked eyes with his _loyal best friend_ who was staring at him with a strange expression. "What's wrong, Blaise?" he asked scathingly. "Don't tell me you've forgotten about me already!"

At this remark, the brunette witch stood up and turned around to see who had entered. The instant she noticed Draco, her entire body froze up and she regarded him with a mix of surprise and resentment.

She made a choking noise and tentatively asked, "Malfoy?"

Draco struggled to recall who this woman was. The long waves of somewhat unruly hair, those large brown eyes, that familiar tone of voice – he had only ever known one person to possess all these things, and it was with this realization that he breathed, "Granger?" _What on earth was Know-It-All Prude Granger doing at a nightclub, of all places? _

She nodded, almost imperceptibly, while the fellow who had run into Draco inquired with confusion, "Hermione? Do you know this man?"

Granger smiled ruefully at the question, her eyes still trained on Draco. "Yes, Eric. I know him very well."

Blaise, sensing the tension in the atmosphere, tried to say something, but Draco nimbly cut in. After all, he hadn't seen this witch in four years…he ought to at least find out something interesting about her.

"And how have you been, Granger?"

She seemed to have been thrown a bit off balance by the harmless question, and furrowed her brows in suspicion before replying, "Good, thank you. What about you? I've seen your company in the news multiple times. It looks like you've made quite an impression on the wizarding market."

Draco smirked, pleased that she acknowledged his growing success. Merlin knew that more often than not, people these days refused to mention his company simply because they could not bring themselves to accept the fact that Draco had managed to lug himself back up to the top even after being kicked down by society for a couple of years after the War.

"Yes, 'Sinful' is proving to be a strong competitor in the business field," he remarked with an air of nonchalance. "But you didn't elaborate on your answer, Granger. How are Pothead and Weaselbee doing?"

Granger quirked an eyebrow and said, "Harry and Ron are doing fine, Malfoy. They're widely considered to be the Ministry's top Aurors and are constantly in the paper as well for their many accomplishments."

Draco scoffed at her attempt to downgrade his own achievements. "Right, because we all know that The-Boy-Who-Unfortunately-Lived and his faithful sidekick are _so _gifted when it comes to wielding the power of magic. I'm surprised Weasel could even afford a wand, what with his impoverished family populating half of Britain."

He noted with relish that Granger's face was slowly gaining a dull pink tint, and he could practically see the spark of fire beginning to burn in her eyes. _Merlin, I've missed making Granger's life miserable._

"Ah, but Granger," he continued. "Don't tell me you're an Auror, too – after all, I thought the Ministry had some sort of standards when it came to that sort of thing. It would make them seem a bit desperate to employ inadequate muggles, now wouldn't it?"

Blaise frowned in disapproval at Draco's words and began, "Draco, mate, I don't quite think that this is –"

"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" Granger spat, ignoring Blaise. "It's been four years since we last encountered each other, Malfoy, and you still haven't let enough oxygen reach your brain to help you realize that it's a whole new world now. You've yet to stop droning on and on about that same old muggles versus purebloods nonsense which got you into trouble in the first place…or wait, do you not remember the fact that most of the people in your social circle are still twiddling their thumbs in the dankest corners of Azkaban? Don't try to deny it, ferret boy! It's a new era and you're still hankering for some sort of muggle apocalypse to occur."

_Why, that bitch._

Draco clenched his hands into fists and felt the familiar prickling of animosity on his skin as he snarled, "Don't try to preach your sermons to me, Granger. The only one who ever truly deserved to kick the bucket was you, and unfortunately, that didn't happen because you happened to have a bunch of rotten blood-traitors and criminals on your side. And, if I'm not mistaken, you let your protectors fall like a house of cards – after all, it's all worth it in the end if it's to save Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of our time...oh, I'm sorry. Did I say 'witch'? I meant to say _bitch_, because that's what you _are_. So don't try and patronize me, Granger. You and your army of degenerates were the whole damn reason for the War. Pathetic little mudbloods thinking they can overtake the land – you're like a thorn in our sides!"

Blaise and Granger both gaped at him with slack jaws and identically thunderstruck expressions. Blaise rapidly shook his head and lifted his hands in order to properly articulate whatever he was thinking, but he was interrupted again.

A large hand clamped down on Draco's shoulder and spun him around, resulting in him facing a livid Eric.

"Sorry," Eric hissed as he glared at Draco who coolly stared back. "But you can't talk to Hermione that way, you son of a bitch."

Draco glanced at the hand tightly gripping his shoulder before sneering, "Pity – you didn't have that bad of a face."

The other man barely had time to fully comprehend the threat, because by then, Draco had swiftly grabbed hold of Eric's wrist with his left hand, twisted it mercilessly, and then driven his elbow into the wizard's face. Blaise started to dash towards them while shouting a string of expletives, but before he could reach either of them, Eric launched himself forward with a yell and tackled Draco to the ground.

Draco hurriedly latched onto Eric's wrists and strained to push him off. They both got to their feet, and Draco, still maintaining his vise-like grip on Eric, grunted with considerable effort, "Care to dance, darling?"

Eric, enraged, used Draco as leverage and served a ferocious blow straight to the stomach with his foot. Suddenly overcome with nauseating agony, Draco hunched over and sank to the carpet with a groan. In the blink of an eye, the other wizard lunged forward again, obviously eager to inflict more damage. _The fucking tosser won't give it a rest, will he?_

Somewhere behind him, he could hear Granger crying out, "Stop it! Eric, stop, no, get off of him! He's not worth it!" As her shrieks filled the air, Blaise strove to force Eric away, but instead received a hard punch to the jaw as a reward for his intentions.

The two rolled around on the floor, throwing wild punches and trying to deliver vicious kicks, until Eric reached out and wrapped his fingers around a large bottle of firewhiskey.

In a flash, Granger flew forward and tried to wrestle away the bottle from Eric's hand. "Damn it, Eric," she hollered while working to avoid the whirlwind of flailing arms. "He's not bloody worth it! Just back off and leave it alone!"

"Stay away, Hermione!" Eric roared as Blaise tugged Granger away. "I'm not going to let this bastard get away with this, no matter what!"

Then, he lifted the bottle high over his head, his narrowed hazel eyes flashing dangerously. Draco, realizing what was about to happen, struggled for all he was worth but found that the blasted wanker had expertly pinned him to the floor. Not a second later, he felt something heavy crash down on his head and drench him in liquid.

There was blinding pain for a second until it gave way to unconsciousness. The last thing Draco remembered before he was swallowed by nothingness was feeling the weight of Eric's body disappearing and smelling a faint scent of vanilla as someone leaned over him…

...

**Links to see what Eric looks like (thanks to Starangel0 for this!)_take out the spaces : _**

**http : / images. buddytv. com /articles/supernatural / images/jared - padalecki- supernatural-2 . j p g**

**h t t p : / www . freewebs . com / jaredsolo / qwer . jpg**

**h t tp: / 70.38.46. 108/data/ media / 12 /Jared%20 Padalecki % 205.j p g **

**...**

**Starangel0 - Yes, Eric and Draco tumbling around sounds pretty good to me! Front-row seats, anyone?**

**Focid - I even thought the word CLICHE in my head while I was typing the last few sentences, but I decided to ignore it because otherwise I was going to sink into a vortex of writer's block. But I hope you'll like my next chapters!**

**amazingtofu - Yeah, I had fun writing that part of Hermione's thoughts. It was so easy to channel myself into it!**

**Azriel - Auras - Thanks as usual for your valuable advice.**

**Bartlebyisthename - So...do you think your Draco got the space he deserved? =)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone who contributed to my collection of reviews - I actually reached 40 reviews a lot earlier than I thought I would! I have decided that I will update after I see 61 total reviews! That's right, ladies and gentlemen, 61. So get to reviewing! Actually, um, wait a bit because I still have to figure out what on earth I'm going to type for chapter 4...hehehe. See you all soon!**

**OFFICIAL CHAPTER DEDICATION: _MidnightEclipse6 _for diligently going back and reviewing every chapter of my other story, when she could have just reviewed the last one! ^^**

**CHAPTER 3 ****– Go the Distance**

Hermione slumped against the pale yellow walls of St. Mungo's reception area and waited for the attending Healer to emerge from the chamber where Eric and Malfoy were currently being examined. She nervously tugged on the hem of her short black dress, wishing she were curled up at home with Crookshanks instead of stumbling around on the despicable four-inch heels that Andrea had forced her to wear. This whole evening had been one blasted mistake. Sure, she'd become acquainted with a highly attractive and wealthy man who believed her to be the crown jewel of the Golden Trio, but in return, she had also encountered a man who made her blood boil like no one else could.

"That conniving, self-centered, egotistical, pigheaded, and villainous little git," she muttered darkly to herself, wondering how many ways one could murder a ferret using nothing but high heels and a pair of dangly earrings.

"What?" asked a brooding Blaise. He had been sitting on a wooden chair with his hands clasped between parted knees, and Hermione could tell he was quite stressed thanks to the worry lines running along his forehead.

"Oh, er, nothing."

_Poor man_, she thought sympathetically as Blaise began drumming his fingers against his thighs just to release some anxiety. _What on earth he must have to put up with just to keep a friendship with Malfoy alive – it's enough to drive anyone mad, and I've only observed them at it for a couple of hours! Merlin, if only Malfoy weren't such a boor, he might have actually become popular for all the __**right**__ reasons. And now with his company beginning to overshadow some of the other enterprises in the vicinity, his ego will only continue to inflate. _

Hermione straightened her posture and slowly walked over to a chair next to Blaise. He looked up at her, and in his eyes, Hermione could see all the worry and uncertainty swirling around in rivers of dark brown. She sat down and hesitantly reached out to cover his restless hand with hers. At her touch, his hand stopped moving, and something in Blaise's tight expression softened.

"Calm down, Blaise," she gently said while giving his hand a small squeeze. "If you and I know anything about that blond-headed buffoon, then we can rest assured that he'll bounce back to safety with astonishing speed."

Blaise cracked a smile at the word "bounce" and replied, "Well, he is the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, remember? I have no doubt in my mind that he'll _bounce_ back as soon as possible."

Hermione laughed out loud at the memory of Malfoy squeaking hysterically as he flew through the air. It had been the most humorous highlight of her fourth year at Hogwarts, apart from going to the Yule ball with Viktor Krum and seeing everyone's shocked expressions upon viewing her "transformation". "Yes," she sniggered. "He really deserves to have that title engraved on his headstone someday. It'll be all over the papers: 'Legendary Malfoy Chooses to Embellish Headstone with Famous School Nickname'!"

Blaise chuckled before glancing down at Hermione's hand which was still covering his own. Immediately, the two wrenched their hands apart as if electrocuted and diligently avoided making eye contact for a few minutes. The only sounds penetrating the silence after that were an occasional throat-clearing from the embarrassed Italian and the ticking of an antique cuckoo clock on the wall.

After what seemed like a hundred years of awkwardness, a middle-aged Healer strode out of the chamber and wearily announced, "They're both in stabilized conditions. You may visit them now."

Blaise rocketed out of his chair with Hermione on his heels and darted into the room. Inside, there were two beds, with each bed accompanied by a simple white table holding up a tiny vase filled with tulips and a tray covered with potions. Between the beds was a large opaque screen that probably served the noble purpose of preventing Malfoy and Eric from lashing out at each other. Hermione felt that she could hear the flimsy mattresses almost groaning under the weight of the two large men, one a dark-haired god, the other a pale-skinned demon. Blaise headed directly over to the bed on the left where Malfoy was lying, however Hermione hurried to Eric's side.

As she sank into the cot's sheets, Eric opened his eyes and smiled up at her, creating little crinkles by the sides of his eyelids. "Didn't think you'd be here," he said while slightly shifting his upper body to a more upright position. He saw her give a side-long glance at the screen, probably considering how well the "neighbors" could hear them, and reassured her, "Don't worry. They've enchanted the screen to make it impossible to hear what people are saying on the other side. The room is practically divided into two halves the instant you walk through that door."

Hermione sighed. "There wasn't much else to do, honestly. The instant you _foolishly_ slammed the bottle down on Malfoy's head, something in Blaise just clicked and he practically grabbed all three of us at once and brought us here together! I don't think you were actually conscious for that part, but let me tell you: it's amazing that no one got splinched. Three extra people apparating with one person is no joke."

Eric showed no sign of remorse at the mention of his final attack, and crossed his arms in defensiveness. "It wasn't foolish, Hermione. That man had the nerve to insult you like that, and you just expected me to stand there and watch? I wasn't about to let him get away with it!"

"We just met each other!" she protested. "God, Eric, it's been what, two or three hours that we've known each other? And you're already fighting for me and protecting me? I don't want you to feel obligated to shield me just because I happen to be Hermione Granger! And I certainly don't want to see you lying in St. Mungo's because of me! Because you know what? That makes me think that Malfoy was right – that I really do just let people throw themselves at my enemies while I hide like a coward."

Eric put his hand to Hermione's cheek and softly murmured, "I know it's only been a couple of hours, but that part doesn't matter to me. What matters is that you won't be forced to take crap like that from anyone again. Yeah, sure, it's cool that you're Hermione Granger and all, but that's not the reason why I stood up for you. Hell, if anything, I'd expect _you_ to be the one protecting _me_ – you're quite obviously a damn good fighter. The reason why I defended you is because I think you deserve someone to look after you for a change: someone who won't make a mess of your life, someone who won't deny you your rights just because you're different, and someone who won't expect you to work for him day and night. And I think we have started off with a good enough connection to let you experience a person like that."

Hermione could feel a tear working to slip out of the corner of her eye and speedily covered her face with her hands. _Why is he being so sweet to me? We hardly know each other, and it's like he just wrote me a love letter or something! I don't even remember the last time a guy said something that heartwarming…could he really like me? Oh, Merlin…_

She felt the mattress move around as he leaned over. "Hermione? I – I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to come on so strong. It's just…" He lightly drew her hands away from her face and gave a small sigh. "I felt something. Something special. And…I don't know, maybe there's a chance we could work with it. But only if you want to. I mean, I can understand if you're completely freaked out by this right now."

_Oh god, oh god, what should I say? Am I freaked out? Is this moving too fast? Does he seem worth it? Uh…ok, that last question was a bit stupid; of COURSE he's worth it! Come on Hermione, live a little! You've finally got an intelligent and incredibly handsome man in front of you, and you're analyzing the situation? Just say YES._

"Um…ah…er," Hermione replied, mentally slapping herself for acting like an inane nincompoop. _Ow! Damn it, that hurt! _

Eric looked at her expectantly, obviously waiting for the infinitely more elegant and refined acceptance.

Hermione took a deep breath and lowered her gaze to the floor. She already knew she was redder than an angry member of the Weasley family. "Eric, I think that sounds…lovely." She glanced up to see his face glow with elation and offered him a shy smile. "But we'll take it slow from here on out, all right?"

He rapidly nodded with a dazzling grin stretching from ear to ear. "Oh yeah, of course!" he exclaimed. "I completely agree with you. Yeah, we'll definitely go at a nice, steady pace."

She laughed and rose, hoping that the imprint of her backside would disappear _very _quickly from the bedding. Merlin knew that she had blushed enough for one night. "All right, well, I'll leave you to it then. Er, let me write down my address for you – you can owl me whenever you'd like, and we'll set something up."

She scribbled down her street name and apartment number on a random piece of parchment and placed it on the table next to her. Just before she turned to walk out, Eric grabbed her wrist.

"What?"

"Thank you."

"Thank you? For what?" she asked bemusedly.

"Thank you for…giving me a chance."

Hermione laughed again and gave him an easy push back into his pillows. "You're too charming for your own good, you know that?"

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and grinned again. "So I've been told."

Hermione smiled and shook her head before striding away. However, just as she got to the door, she wondered if she should visit Malfoy's bedside for a moment. _It couldn't hurt, could it?_ But then, she clenched her jaw and resolutely marched out, deciding to depart without seeing the stupid wanker. _After all that he made me endure tonight, he or Blaise couldn't possibly think I'd drop by! No, he can just stay there and suffer. Besides, it'll only bring him more grief to see my face two times in one night._

Dispelling all traces of potential guilt from her mind, Hermione walked outside the front gates to St. Mungo's and spun in place with her eyes shut tight. In a heartbeat, she was in front of her apartment. Briefly taking pleasure in the cool breeze that swept her hair up, she then used a personalized charm to open her door and enter, ready to kick her shoes off and flop onto her warm, inviting bed.

She was, however, to be further deprived of relaxation because as soon as she stepped inside, a bustling mass of dirty blonde hair leapt at her and nearly caused her to collapse.

"Thank Merlin!" the light-pink colored bundle cried as it wrapped its arms around Hermione's waist. "I thought – I thought…oh jeez, I've been so worried! Where have you been, Hermione? You damn near had me about to call up every last Auror in the country to go and find you!"

Hermione pried herself free and held a white-faced Andrea by her shoulders. "Andi," she said soothingly while the other girl stared at her reproachfully. "Andi, calm down. I'm okay. I've just had a very eventful night, and I'll tell you all about it if you promise to get a hold of yourself, all right?"

Andrea inhaled deeply and nodded. "Ah, yes. Sure."

The two went over to the living room and stiffly perched on the sofa. Silence temporarily filled the air as Hermione walked back to the kitchen and obtained two wine glasses and a bottle of chardonnay. Once she had returned, Andrea robotically took a glass and poured herself some wine. After drinking it, some color came back into her cheeks and she set the glass down, ready for an explanation.

"All right, now explain," she demanded, a bit of her old imperious air enriching her tone.

Hermione reached down and yanked her heels off before picking them up and throwing them aside. Then she took a sip of her wine and said, "Oh, Andi, there's so much to tell you."

Andrea rolled her eyes in an obvious sign of impatience and urged, "Well, hurry up then! My hearing's not going to get any better over the years, and quite frankly, I have my own flat I'd like to be getting back to."

"Ahem. Well. Apart from that torrent of overflowing compassion and sensitivity," Hermione said pointedly as she dropped her head back on the soft cushions. "You know that like, the _instant_ we entered the club, you abandoned me and ran off to mingle with beautiful people."

The blonde suddenly avoided making eye contact much to Hermione's amusement.

"I don't really blame you," Hermione said as she smiled and raised her eyebrows at her friend. "But it was a bit unnerving at first. Anyways, after you disappeared, I pushed and shoved my way over to the bar in order to prevent myself dying from bad dancing skills or asphyxiation. When I sat down, the bartender came up and asked me what I'd like, but before I could think of anything to say, a man sat down next to me and ordered for me!"

Here, Andrea widened her eyes in an almost insultingly astonished expression. "A _man_? Good heavens Hermy, I leave you alone for five minutes and you manage to reel in a man? Go on, spill! Was he cute? Was he a bore? Was he funny? I want answers, damn it!"

Hermione threw her hands up in the air and exclaimed, "If you'd let me _talk_, perhaps I could give you some _answers_!"

Andrea sat back and made a sweeping motion with her arm to indicate that Hermione was free to speak.

_I swear she's passive-aggressive._

"Anyways, back to what I was saying. A man sat down and ordered two martinis, and Merlin's pants, Andi, this man was…" Hermione just dreamily shook her head.

"Wow. Really something, huh?"

Hermione could basically hear Andi trying to keep her impatience under check and decided to put her out of her misery. "All right, this is what he looked like," she began, causing Andi to sit up straight without delay. "He had thick, wavy brown hair, a terrific smile, lovely hazel eyes, and two of the sweetest dimples I have ever seen."

"Tall?" Andrea asked with a calculating mien.

"Over six feet, I think."

"Fashionable?"

"Undoubtedly. He was wearing a tailored white shirt and fitted black trousers."

Andrea surveyed Hermione over her wine glass and cheekily inquired, "Yes, I'm sure you figured out how _fitted _his trousers were very easily, didn't you?"

Hermione squealed indignantly as she threw a nearby pillow at the other girl's head. "I'm not a shameless peeping tom like you, Andi!" _But they really did fit very nicely to his – _

"Moving on! Intelligent?"

Hermione enthusiastically nodded her head. "Merlin, Andi, he's a Magitect! Can you imagine? That's one of the hardest jobs to ever take on, and he's actually doing it!" She repeated what she had said earlier to Eric. "God, I don't even know anyone who's in that field apart from him!"

"Okay, okay," Andrea chuckled as she viewed her friend's pronounced excitement. "Don't wet your knickers right here!"

Another pillow was launched at Andrea's head, resulting in the girl screaming bloody murder and leaping on top of Hermione in fake outrage.

"Now stop!" Hermione bellowed after a couple of minutes, her sides aching from all the laughter. She pushed Andi off and lay back down. "Enough about Eric's characteristics! After he bought me a drink and we talked for a while, some stupid blighter turned the volume up to an almost painful intensity, forcing Eric and I to leave the bar and head over to the private compartment area."

Andi coughed into her fist. "Um, haha. That might have been me, now that you mention it. The DJ was very kind."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "Of _course _it was you. Now shut up. As we were entering a room, someone called Eric away, so I just had the place to myself. But after approximately five seconds, Blaise Zabini walks in!"

"The sexy bloke who co-founded the company 'Sinful'?"

"Yes! And he recognized me. So, we sat down and talked and traded a few jokes, but before either of us could even enjoy a full ten minutes of serenity, guess who just barges in?"

Andi shrugged and took a wild guess. "Voldemort wearing an adult diaper?"

Hermione paused and blinked. "Nooo…and how do you even know what an adult diaper is?"

Her friend waved her hand to dismiss the subject. "It's a long story. Continue."

"Right, okay. Listen to this: Malfoy, the quintessential leader of Arseholes Anonymous, storms into our compartment!"

"DRACO MALFOY! THE HOTTEST MAN ALIVE? YOU GOT TO MEET _HIM_ TONIGHT? OH MY GOD, YOU ARE SO EFFING LUCKY! HE'S THE SEXIEST HUNK OF BURNING FLESH I HAVE EVER LAID EYES ON!"

"Your support of my hatred for him is admirable, Andi," Hermione remarked dryly. "Perhaps this anecdote will only further bolster your love for him. That pureblooded prat sailed in with Eric behind him (I'm sure he didn't know that he was being followed) and began yelling at Blaise for ditching him in the club. Then, he saw me and began spewing his nonsensical bullshit from all those years ago about how muggleborns are inferior and were the whole reason for the War."

"Why, that filthy son of a bitch!"

"It gets better," Hermione said grimly. "Once Malfoy was finished with his 'I-Hate-Mudbloods' speech, Eric spun him around and told him that he couldn't speak to me that way. Malfoy instantly took it as a paramount threat and began punching Eric! Eric of course fought back, and Blaise and I even tried to step in from time to time, but it was to no avail. And it obviously didn't help that we'd all left our wands at home. Finally, Eric simply grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey and brought it down on Malfoy's head, knocking him unconscious. After that, Blaise flew into action and apparated us all to St. Mungo's in _one try_!"

"Bloody hell. It serves the rotten, albeit sexy, Malfoy bastard right," Andi croaked, hooked on every word. "Then what?"

"After waiting for a while, Blaise and I were told that the two men were in stable conditions. We went in to visit our respective friends, and I found Eric lying on his bed without a mark or bruise on his face. He and I talked for a while, but Andi, it boils down to this: he likes me, and wants to go out with me!"

Andi squealed again, this time louder than before, and began vigorously fist-pumping in celebration. "Yes! I can't believe it, Herms! You did it! You finally grabbed yourself a man, and you ran with him! Congratulations!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the blue-eyed imp's exuberance. "Hm, yes, I suppose I did."

Suddenly, Andrea's zest abated and she stared at Hermione. "What about Malfoy?"

"What _about_ Malfoy?" Hermione asked confusedly. _How did we go from dancing about Eric to discussing Malfoy?_

"Did you stop by his bed to check on him?"

"I didn't need to, he had Blaise! And honestly, why would I stop by the bed of the man who destroyed any good impressions I had of him, who assuredly loathes my mere existence?"

"I don't know, Hermione. He _did_ get hit on the head with a heavy bottle…"

"Well, maybe it knocked some sense into him," Hermione replied cruelly.

Andrea stood up and stretched, her face still clouded with troubled feelings. "I ought to go now," she yawned. "It's late, and I've got work tomorrow. Here, walk me out."

The two girls traipsed to the front door. Before leaving, Andrea gave Hermione a hug and smiled warmly. "I'm really glad you've found someone, babe."

Hermione hugged back just as tightly and said, "Thanks, Andi. It's been a long time since I've felt like this."

The blonde pulled back, went down the stairs to the street, and stood on her tiptoes, ready to disapparate. "Oh, and one more thing," she called.

"What?"

"Visit Draco Malfoy."

"What? Why?"

Andrea tossed her hair over her shoulder and slightly bent her knees. "Because you never know how far one kind act might go!"

And with a pop, she was gone, leaving behind a conflicted Hermione.

_Hmph, yeah, right. Like I'm really going to make an effort to call on that mangy jerk. _

Later, as she lay in bed, Hermione stuffed her face into her pillow and groaned. _That damned guilt!_ Heaving an enormous sigh, she padded over to her kitchen and perused a relatively current issue of _The Daily Prophet_, searching for the address of one Malfoy Manor.

...

Draco felt absolutely pathetic as he lay there on a musty cot. His beautiful blond hair was bound by tight bandages, and his eyelids felt heavy and weighted. Sitting next to him was Blaise – always dependable, always supportive. Draco felt a pang of contrition after seeing the worry etched into his face, but he hoped that he wouldn't be forced to actually apologize. _Malfoys can do many things, but apologizing is not one of them. _A tiny clock on the wall in front of him told him it was 11:45.

_Well, damn, this has been a fun night._

"Draco?" Blaise said, his voice slightly rough. "You all right?"

"I've been better," he replied loftily, ignoring his mild headache. "But this certainly isn't the worst I've ever been."

Blaise snorted and sat back with his arms crossed. "Yeah, I can imagine. But I'm not going to tell you that you were justified at all in this fight, in case you're waiting for it. You brought it upon yourself, and while I certainly wish you hadn't gotten injured, I can't say that your actions didn't warrant something like this."

Draco rolled his eyes and groaned, "Please, Zabini, don't lecture me on this. I spoke my mind, and I don't need anyone telling me that what I think is wrong. It's not my fault her little boyfriend, or whoever the hell he is, had to get his panties all up in twist. If you'll notice, _she_ didn't seem to react too badly at all."

"You completely antagonized her within a minute of meeting her again after four bloody long years! I think that's probably a world record!"

"I couldn't help it! Something about her just riled me up and got under my skin. The way she tried to make it seem like my achievements are only second-best compared to those of her stupid friends infuriated me!" _As if a Potter or Weasley could ever hope to compete with a Malfoy._

"My, my, my," Blaise said sardonically, his brown eyes flashing. "You really care about what she thinks of you, don't you? What is it about her that makes you so vitriolic, Draco? Because I remember seeing this same sort of scenario day after day back at Hogwarts – anytime Hermione bested you at something, you'd just have gripe about it all day and night long, and you simply wouldn't let the matter rest!"

"Look," Draco explained in order to keep Blaise from getting any wrong ideas. _Merlin, I don't even want to know what sort of ideas those could be! Ugh! _"I was in a pissy mood this evening, all right? I had to deal with you running off, and then I had to somehow get away from every female freak in the area without losing my dignity or losing my money. There was this one witch, I tell you, she got right on the end of my blasted ner-"

Blaise put up a hand to stop Draco's babbling, causing the incapacitated man to slouch back and glower at his friend not unlike an immature child. "I'm sure you have a riveting tale to tell, Draco, but I'm really not in the mood. You've acted like a spoiled brat today, and I highly doubt your mother would be too pleased to hear about this, don't you think?"

_Is he seriously threatening to tell my mother? _"Are you seriously threatening to tell mother?" Draco asked petulantly.

The dark-haired man dragged his chair closer to the bed and observed Draco through steepled fingers. "I just might," he answered casually, his voice hinting at trouble. "Unless, of course, you do something for me."

"And what might that be?" Draco spat.

"Apologize."

"Pardon me, it sounded almost like you told me to apologize. What did you say?"

"Apologize," Blaise repeated tranquilly.

"You've got to be joking. Apologize to whom? Bigheaded Boyfriend over there? Hell no! You can't make me do it!"

Blaise picked a nonexistent piece of lint off his shirt and flicked it away before locking eyes with Draco again. "I don't care about the other man. What I care about is you redeeming yourself in Hermione's eyes as soon as possible."

Draco glared furiously at his friend. _What the hell? Since when did Blaise become an effing saint! _"What's going on with you and Granger? And when the bloody hell did you start calling her by her first name?"

"It's a thing polite people do when they like each other, _Malfoy_. They move past the barriers of the surname and start using first names. You should try it sometime…after, of course, you try apologizing to a certain brown-haired girl."

"Ha! Make me. I'll hand myself over to Pansy Parkinson before I'll go and apologize to that mudblood."

"Do you have a Pensieve at the manor, Draco?" Blaise asked randomly while looking off into the distance.

"Er, yes. Why?" _Thank Merlin! He's changing the subject._

"Because I could very easily show your mother that memory of you telling me how you lost your virginity to an unknown girl at the tender age of fifteen. I'm sure she'd enjoy that very much. After all, what parent doesn't love hearing about his/her child's _accomplishments_?"

_He's bloody blackmailing me. MY BEST FRIEND IS __FUCKING__ BLACKMAILING ME! _

"May I ask the reason for this blatant display of betrayal?" Draco inquired through gritted teeth.

"Yes. You need to learn to get along with people unlike yourself, because someday, you're going to come across someone who'll do the same thing to you and you'll wish that you hadn't been such a bastard at the time when your mindset was still able to change."

"You've seriously gone off the deep end," Draco scoffed with disgust.

"Be that as it may, you are going to apologize to Hermione Granger if you value your current lifestyle. Unless, of course, you don't mind facing the beautiful Mrs. Malfoy's fiery wrath."

Draco glared at the smirk that was failing to vanish from Blaise's face. _I never knew he was such a Slytherin. Here I've been thinking that maybe he's really just an occasionally confrontational nice guy who is above chicanery. Guess I've been wrong. _

The attending Healer then entered the room holding a quill and a clipboard. She stopped first at the other bed where Mr. Big Shot was lying. After two or three minutes, she emerged and walked over to Draco's bed appearing to be slightly flustered.

_Ah, well, what woman wouldn't be flustered at the sight of me? _He quickly skirted over the fact there was a certain Gryffindor prude who remained the exception when it came to his innate charm.

"Um, Mr. Malfoy," she said nervously while flipping through the pages on her clipboard. "You're clear to go. All you have to do is take this potion in its proper doses every day for a week. The instructions for the dosage are attached to the vial. Do you have any questions?" She added on the last bit as she set the bottle of dull blue liquid down.

Draco smirked. "Only one. Do you make nighttime house calls?"

The Healer turned even pinker and started stumbling all over her words. "Er…um…I'm, uh, sorry? I – I didn't quite get what you…"

Blaise courteously stood up and put his arm around her, thus subtly leading her out. "I apologize for my friend's lack of verbal decorum. Kindly ignore his ludicrous innuendoes and have a nice night. I shall escort him home."

"Um…"

"Good _night_."

Once she had departed, Draco snarled with frustration, "Are you purposefully trying to ruin all my fun tonight? Because I must admit, you're doing a jolly good job of it!"

"You consider lying in St. Mungo's with your head wrapped up in bandages _fun_?"

"No! But if I'm not going to get laid tonight, then I might as well enjoy myself anyways!"

"By hitting on a Healer who doesn't have more than a handful of brain cells floating around in her skull? Merlin, Draco, you've certainly let your standards fall."

"What on earth has your knickers in a knot?"

Blaise shrugged and pocketed the aforementioned potion before jerking his head and ordering, "All right, up. It's high time we went home."

Draco reluctantly staggered out of his bed and grasped Blaise's elbow _much_ more tightly than necessary, then they simultaneously apparated to Draco's bedroom in the Malfoy Manor.

Blaise placed the blue potion on the silver colored dresser and put his hands in his pockets. "Remember, mate," he said quietly. "You have to say you're sorry."

_Sorry for what? For speaking my mind? For telling the truth? For getting a few kicks in during a fight?_

Draco turned so that his back was facing his friend and grunted, "Bugger off."

"As you wish."

After Blaise left, Draco fell backwards onto his bed and allowed sleep to overwhelm his senses. He'd had quite enough thinking and excitement going on for one night, and he didn't intend to prolong his suffering much more, thank you very much.

The next morning found Draco lounging about in a loose shirt and sweatpants, lazily sorting through the mail. His mother was out shopping, allowing him to savor some golden solitude. On the floor next to him were two piles, one regarding "Sinful", the other just about normal matters of correspondence.

"Let's see here," he muttered as he flipped though scroll after scroll. "Finances, new recruits, trade rights, dinner with the Sparks, and oh…what's this? A letter from Blaise – how shocking."

Throwing the other letters aside for the time being, he tore the scroll open and read with a modicum of disinterest:

_Draco,_

_You know your task. Get it done, and don't make me stoop to the levels you know I'm capable of getting to._

_Blaise_

_P.S. Try not to rip this letter up __too__ ferociously._

"Wrong, Blaise," he announced to the walls. "I shall not rip it up, I shall crumple it up." And he began to do so with great fervor before lobbing it to a far away corner.

Again, he picked up the stack of epistles next to him and sorted through some more. "Press conference, press conference, congratulations on the new office, another boring socialite party, and…Granger?"

Draco sat up with renewed interest and examined the elaborate script on the simple envelope. _From Hermione Granger, _it read. He rapidly flipped it over and yanked his finger through a small opening, causing him to end up sucking on a paper cut and reading:

_Malfoy,_

_I know this isn't exactly giving you much of a notice, but I wanted to let you know that I'll be dropping by sometime soon. Not just soon, but today, actually. I realize that I probably won't receive the warmest of welcomes, but there's something I need to do that can't really wait. Hopefully this hasn't greatly inconvenienced you._

_Sincerely,_

_H. Granger_

He folded the letter up and put his fingers to his temple in contemplation. What business did she have with him? And what was the reason for such urgency? After all, she herself had noted that an early morning notice wasn't much of a notice at all.

_I don't like the sound of this. Her showing up here will only lead to trouble, mark my words. And yeah right, since when does she care about **inconveniencing** me? Ha!_

Suddenly, a house-elf materialized and bowed. "A Miss Granger has arrived, Master Malfoy."

Draco nearly fell out of his armchair in surprise. "Granger? Already? But, I just read her letter. Did she explain why she's here?"

The ugly creature timidly shuffled its feet and replied, "Needy does not know, Master. Miss Granger seems a bit nervous, sir - that is all Needy can say."

"Hm. I see. Now go."

The house-elf bowed again before vanishing, leaving Draco to wonder if he should actually let Granger inside or not. One side of him was intrigued, but the other was deeply suspicious.

_What was that Needy said? She seemed nervous? _"Well, she's about to enter the infamous House of Malfoy," Draco muttered as he strode out to the set of huge double-doors serving as the official entrance. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself for some sort of hex being thrown in his way, he firmly grasped the iron handles and jerked them open. He was met by the sight of a slightly frazzled-looking Granger dressed in a knee-length red skirt and a white blouse. Her eyes widened in surprise upon observing him, but she carefully rearranged her features into an impressive mask of congeniality.

"Granger," Draco said, making his tone as icy as possible. "What dastardly twist of fate brings you here?"

_Merlin's pants, this is it. This is where she's going to punch me in the face again like she did once all those years ago. She's going to use the Cruciatus Curse on me and drive me insane before burying my broken shell of a body under the thickest floorboards of this house. I shouldn't have left my wand in my room. Blast it, I'm a bloody fool for having left that there. Damn._

She actually appeared rather _guilty_ as she bit her lip, but despite that, Draco was definitely not expecting for her to say what she simply ended up saying: "Er, hello, Malfoy…how are you?"

But what really put the icing on the cake was when Blaise appeared right behind Granger after she uttered those words. "Draco," he called in an eerie sing-song voice. "Somebody has something to do..."

"Didn't I tell you to bugger off?" Draco growled, attempting to ignore the flash of happy recognition on Granger's face as she saw Blaise.

"Now, now, Draco," a solemn female voice admonished. "Is that any way to speak in front your guests?"

And that was when Draco saw his mother step out from behind Blaise with an armload of shopping bags and an expression of stern disapproval on her pale, aristrocratic face.

_Oh, fuck._

...

**amazingtofu - Like I said, it's so easy to channel myself into Hermione. Oh, and you're welcome. ^^**

**JaneRoger and JuliaRoger140 - Thanks for rallying for my cause! I think you guys made a pretty good impact on other readers. ;)**

**-gotdraco- - Yes, that's where I got the name from! I like taking random song names and stuff from time to time to name my chapters. For example, the title of this chapter is the name of a song from the movie "Hercules". Remember, guys, the one where he flies off into the sunset with Pegasus? **

**abutterfly'sshadow - Your review made my day. **

**numbrdramoine2005 - I think Draco deserves a good beating every now and then, don't you? -wink, wink**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow guys, it's great to see that you all are enjoying my story so far! I'm SO sorry about not updating sooner, but lately, I've been very busy with summer work and dance and blah blah blah... So anyways, as always, your support and reviews are extremely appreciated. I can't even begin to explain how much I love seeing those "Favorite Story", "Favorite Author", "Story Alert" and "Review Alert" notifications in my inbox. ^^ **

**I would like to see at least 90 reviews (total) this time! *Remember, I won't update until the number reaches 90* You guys haven't disappointed me yet! ;) **

**OFFICIAL CHAPTER DEDICATION: _Starangel0 _for being a fantastic pen pal, supporter, and reviewer. **

**CHAPTER 4**** – Mother Dragons Have Their Ways **

Hermione could hardly believe she had returned to the Malfoy Manor after all those years, but there she was, sitting there awkwardly on a luxurious couch decorated with golden thread. In front of her was a frosted glass coffee table, laden with a flowery porcelain tray filled with all sorts of little snacks.

_As if I could eat anything without feeling self-conscious._

Self-consciousness, in fact, was indeed threatening to overpower Hermione's initial confidence. As the esteemed and coldly beautiful Narcissa Malfoy offered her a benign smile that barely reached her periwinkle eyes, Hermione could feel herself flushing slightly. Malfoy, on the other hand, was distinctly avoiding making eye contact with anyone. _It's just as well, too. If __**he**__ were to be gawping at me with that predictably insulting look of his, I might just pop a blood vessel somewhere._ Blaise (to her left), the only one who was seemingly at ease with the whole situation, crossed his legs in the position that men usually favor and unabashedly gulped down two tiny muffins. _Well, of course __**he **__has no problem being here – this is probably like his second home. God, this is so awkward. __**Someone**__ needs to say something before I go stark raving mad._

"So, Miss Granger," Narcissa said as she set her teacup onto the table. "What business brings you to our home?"

Hermione started at the sound of her name and hastily set her own teacup back onto the table as well. "I actually wanted to speak with your son, Mrs. Malfoy. I had the pleasure of meeting him yesterday after nearly four years, and I wished to catch up with him a bit." _Right…because it was indeed SUCH a pleasure._

Narcissa swiveled her head around and placed her piercing gaze on her offspring who was nervously plucking at a stray thread from the cushion. "Why did you not tell me that you met Miss Granger yesterday, Draco?" she inquired with raised eyebrows.

"I did not find occasion to mention it," Malfoy replied in a monotone, his fingers still pulling at the unfortunate thread.

"Such a thing does not require an occasion," Narcissa remarked with her pale eyebrows still inching up her forehead. "It is really quite an interesting thing that you happened to meet Miss Granger after such a long time. Where exactly did this happen?"

Blaise quickly saved Malfoy the trouble of answering by saying, "Er, we actually met at the Three Broomsticks."

Hermione watched as Malfoy briefly widened his eyes at Blaise before emitting an almost inaudible sigh. _Evidently Mrs. Malfoy does not approve of nightclubs – can't say that I'm surprised. I can hardly picture someone like her throwing all caution to the wind and attending or even approving of a disco._

"The Three Broomsticks?" Narcissa asked with a modicum of surprise. "I wasn't aware that you all still visited that place. Was old Tom there?"

"Yes, he was," Hermione lied. "And, er, what actually happened was that I was sitting alone in a corner with my nose buried in a book as usual, when all of a sudden, Blaise approached me. We soon found ourselves immersed in conversation, and after a while, Malfoy joined us."

Hermione thought she saw a flash of gratefulness in Malfoy's eyes, but she dismissed the idea almost as soon as it entered her head. _How ludicrous to think that a Malfoy would stoop to such levels just to thank a lowlife like me,_ she acidly thought.

"How lovely," Narcissa responded before zeroing in on her son again with a speculative expression. "Draco, darling, why do you look so cross? You have a guest in your presence, and the last thing I expect from you is such a morbid attitude. Come, you must show Miss Granger around the manor!"

Blaise immediately disguised a bark of laughter as a rough cough as Malfoy's jaw nearly hit the ground.

"A tour? Of the manor?" the blonde choked as Blaise continued to cough into his fist. "But mother, I am sure she has no interest and – "

Narcissa smiled sweetly, but Hermione could see the skin around the older woman's eyes tightening. "Darling, please do as I ask. It would be an invaluable opportunity for Miss Granger to really understand the intricacies of this place."

"But –"

"Draco, _take her now_."

If she had been an immature girl (and if the person being addressed were not who he was), Hermione would have giggled at this command for reasons I'm sure you'll understand sooner or later. However, she turned to Narcissa and attempted to politely decline the proposal. "Mrs. Malfoy, really, I do not wish to trouble any of you at all. It's perfectly all right with me if I do not take a tour today…"

Narcissa methodically smoothed her long silk dress, adjusted the rings on her fingers, and clasped her hands together before demurely stating, "I would very much like for you to take a tour with Draco today, Miss Granger."

And without further ado, Malfoy hurriedly got to his feet and walked over to the door leading out of the parlor. Hermione found herself following him despite her initial hopes of escaping. _That woman has quite a way with authority; I'd be mad to defy her outright. _After glaring at the complacently smirking Blaise for a split-second, Malfoy opened the door and strode away, leaving a conflicted Hermione to scurry after him. They ambled down an immense yet markedly luminous hallway in stony silence for some time, neither person wanting to have to say the first word.

_Wow, these walls are covered with ancient tapestries and portrait after portrait. Could the Malfoys really be that old of a family? I've read about their genealogy in a few books, but most of them never even covered the complete family tree… I suppose they do have a small reason to be a bit snobbish with others, but even an impressive pedigree such as theirs does NOT allow for blatant prejudice and discrimination!_

Suddenly, Malfoy stopped in his tracks, crossed his arms (_he actually has muscle?)_ over his chest, and barked, "All right Needy, you can stop your pitiful excuse of a spy mission now."

To Hermione's consternation, a meek-looking house-elf stepped out from behind a statue and began to tremble with fear, its bulbous eyes getting larger and larger with each step that Malfoy took towards it. Then the house-elf abruptly let out a screeching wail and began slapping itself in the face over and over while crying, "Needy has failed Mistress Malfoy! Needy has let himself get caught! Needy is a bad house-elf! Bad, bad, bad!"

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione ran over to the wretched little creature, knelt down, and held its wrists apart in order to prevent it from hurting itself any longer. At her touch, Needy shrilly screamed again and desperately tried to escape so that he _(?)_ could go back to pummeling himself.

Hermione maintained her steady grip on Needy's emaciated wrists and gave the struggling house-elf a good, hard shake. "Needy, please, calm down!" she exclaimed. "You've done nothing wrong, so stop thrashing about!"

"No, no, no," Needy insisted while trying to jerk out of Hermione's grasp. "Needy deserves to be punished! Mistress Malfoy is going to be angry with Needy for not quietly checking on Master Draco and Miss Granger like Needy was supposed to!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Granger," Malfoy drawled. "Let the damn thing go and do what it likes. You're not about to change its entire way of life with one of your lousy little _spug_ lectures or whatever."

_That's what you think, buster._

"For your information, it was S.P.E.W., not _spug_," Hermione coolly replied. "And I most certainly will _not_ let Needy go and hurt himself. It's barbaric, cruel, and just wrong. Now then," she softly said after turning back to the now sniffling house-elf. "Please stop trying to punish yourself. Just because Malfoy sought you out doesn't mean you made any mistakes."

Needy stopped wriggling and blinked up at her with tears brimming in his large eyes. "Needy is supposed to punish himself if Master or Mistress is unhappy. That is what Needy has always been taught." He nervously glanced at Malfoy who was periodically rolling his eyes before staring back up at her and muttering, "Why is Miss Granger being so kind to Needy? Needy has heard Master Draco say that Miss Granger is an ugly Mudblood, but Needy does not think so…"

Hermione could feel herself stiffen slightly as she listened to Needy, but she decided to act supremely unconcerned about the fact that Malfoy even managed to influence house-elves in their ways of thinking. _Watch and learn, ferret boy._

"Needy?" she murmured softly as the little house-elf wiped his nose on the rag he was wearing. "I don't want you to think of me as a Mudblood. I want you to think of me as just a normal witch – perhaps even your friend. And I say, as your friend, that you have no reason to hurt yourself, and you have no reason to fall prey to other people's words or demands. Do as you like, but don't blindly follow others."

Tears began streaming down Needy's wrinkly face as he buried his face in his hands and cried, "Oh, such kindness! No one has ever shown Needy such kindness before!"

Hermione grinned and patted Needy on the back before he straightened up and weakly cleared his throat. "Needy shall leave now," he said with a ghost of a smile on his wrinkly moue. And then with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

Hermione rose to the sound of slow applause: **clap…clap…clap**. As she adjusted her skirt, she turned and faced Malfoy who was still leaning against the wall with a look of utter ennui. "As much as I adore hearing applause from my fans," she scathingly remarked. "You really ought to stop that now."

Malfoy pushed off the wall and placed his hands in his pockets, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fans? Don't be delusional, Granger, it's not a good feature for you. You know that the only reason why anyone even mentions your name is because you tagged along with Scarface on his many _heroic_ missions. Not to mention that you're still ridiculed by people for that bloody committee you set up in Hogwarts in order to save the elves and all that."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that. In fact, I met one of the exceptions to your theory just yesterday."

"Let me guess," Malfoy sneered, his face twisted with annoyance. "It must have been your pathetic little knight in shining armor, the one who so gallantly defended you after I had my rightful say."

"I wouldn't quite call him _pathetic_, Malfoy," Hermione spat. "Unless my memory fails me, which I highly doubt, it was _you_ who got beat up quite nicely, isn't that right?" _Nothing like adding a bit of salt to a wound to take revenge on someone. _

Malfoy closed the gap between them with three powerful strides and bore his stormy eyes into hers. "Enjoy holding that bit of information for as long as you can, Granger – because the next time I encounter that bastard, there will be hell to pay."

Hermione unflinchingly glared right back at him, only vaguely aware of how the tips of their noses were almost touching. "You can keep your stupid threats to yourself, you prat. I don't care for them and Eric most certainly doesn't either. I think we've all discovered just how talented the great Draco Malfoy is when it comes to fistfights, don't you think? First you ruin a perfectly normal and well-behaved night out at a club, and then you manage to land yourself in St. Mungo's. You're a recipe for disaster."

Gray orbs narrowed into slits as the blonde beast growled, "Don't push your luck, Granger. Just because I haven't drawn my wand yet doesn't mean I'm not capable of hexing you. It may be a new era of reconciliation for others, but to me, you'll always be the frizzy-haired, buck-toothed, and most irksome female to ever worm her way into my life."

_Don't kill him, Hermione. Don't ruin your perfect personal record. Don't let this ignoramus provoke you into doing something very, very stupid. Think of all the things you'd have to leave behind if you ended up in Azkaban, and for what? To rid the world of another flea-bitten ferret? I think not. No, you'll handle this with grace and poise because you, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, are a lady._

Hermione drew back and offered Malfoy a glacial smile. "Well then," she replied in a clipped tone. "If that is the case, I'm sure you won't mind if I _worm_ my way out of your life for a while. I do believe I have outstayed my welcome as it is. I hope your mother won't mind terribly if I leave now. Thank you for the magnificent tour, Malfoy – while I didn't learn much about the manor, I learned a great deal on exactly how much of an arsehole you are. Good day."

With those parting words, Hermione tossed her curls over her shoulder, lifted her chin ever so slightly, and stalked out, feeling just as victorious as the day she had slapped Malfoy in third year. She found Blaise and Narcissa still sitting in the parlor, chatting about the current economy, and politely waited for them to acknowledge her.

Once Narcissa realized Hermione had arrived, she paused her conversation with Blaise and lightly asked, "Why, Miss Granger, leaving so soon?"

Hermione tried to look apologetic as she answered, "Yes, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm terribly sorry. I was being treated to a lovely tour, but then I remembered that I have an important matter to attend to with a friend. I regret to inform you that I must leave now."

Blaise inclined his head and quirked a dark eyebrow. "Is Draco coming back?"

She shrugged and smoothly lied, "He told me that he had some work to do in one of the far wings, and requested me to escort myself out." _More like he asked me to escort myself to hell's furnaces, but they don't have to know that. _

Narcissa frowned, her rather full lips turning down uncharacteristically. "I don't know what's gotten into that son of mine - he's rather lost all propriety ever since yesterday. It's almost as if he's gotten all the sense knocked out of him!"

_Oh, you don't know the half of it._

Blaise laughed nervously and responded, "Yes, quite."

"Well, Mrs. Malfoy, I ought to go now," Hermione cheerfully declared. "I've had a short but lovely time here this morning. Thank you for your hospitality." _May I never have to step inside this place again._

Narcissa stood up, the folds of her cream colored dress swishing around her legs. "I'll have a house-elf show you out." She called out, "Bonkers!" Instantly, a tiny house-elf wearing a set of striped, light pink rags appeared and bowed.

Hermione failed to keep her slight wonderment at the odd name in check, and the Malfoy matriarch answered the unvoiced question by saying, "My husband tended to experience spells of considerable emotional stress. In those time periods, he would take to calling random house-elves and issuing names based on his current mood. One day, he was feeling rather off-kilter, so he called up this particular house-elf and deemed her 'Bonkers'. Odd, isn't it?"

Hermione simply smiled, afraid to either nod or shake her head. _If I nod, then does that mean I'm confirming that her husband was a lunatic? If I shake my head, does that mean that I don't think she's right in thinking it was odd? These are dangerous waters, Hermione. Steer clear of all these tricky questions and just GET OUT!_

"Miss Granger," mumbled Bonkers, her nose currently level with her knobby knees. "If you are ready, Bonkers will escort you out now."

"Er, yes, thank you. Good bye, Mrs. Malfoy. Good bye, Blaise!"

The two quickly walked to the front door where the house-elf bowed once more and demurely murmured, "Bonkers hopes Miss Granger will return soon."

Hermione nodded once before making her way past the rows of bushes and fountains in order to reach the main gates. Then she quickly spun on her heel, more than ready to be back inside the cozy confines of her apartment once again. Once she was inside, she hurriedly reached for a textbook _(Basic Human Anatomy: The Bare Essentials – By: Wilhelmina Toppins)_ and snuggled up with Crookshanks, ready to reread the book for the third time. She had barely finished with the preface when all of a sudden, her door burst open, and in danced Andrea.

Hermione threw her head back with an exasperated groan and exclaimed, "God, Andi, can't I have all of _five minutes_ for myself without you barging in and completely messing up my day's plans?"

Andi rolled her eyes and ignored the complaints before flinging a thick envelope onto the coffee table. "I think you're going to be very happy when you read this, Hermy!" she said with a grin stretching from ear to ear.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, not bothering to reach for it just yet.

"Why don't you open it and see?"

At that moment, something started tapping on the kitchen window, causing Hermione to jump up and see a handsome oriental bay owl pecking at the glass. She quickly lifted the panel up, allowing the bird to calmly extend its foot on which a scroll was tied.

Andrea, who had followed Hermione, examined the owl and said, "Who is it from?"

Hermione untied the scroll from the owl's leg and placed a bowl of water on the window sill. "I don't know. I've never seen this owl or this handwriting before."

"Go on, open it and see!" the other girl urged.

They both hoisted themselves up on the countertop as Hermione opened the scroll and read:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope that Yuri and this letter have reached the right person, because if they haven't, then the receiver of this message will probably be feeling a bit awkward right now. Anyways, I was discharged from the infirmary not long after you left last night, and I noted with some amusement that you managed to make quite an __**impression **__on my bed sheets. _

"Damn it, so he did notice," she muttered as her eyes continued to scan the parchment.

_Regardless of the effect of your fine figure, I would like to see you again, sometime soon. I know of a nice place in London – a bookshop/café – that I think you'll find quite comfortable. If you're up for it, then owl me back with your choice of time and date, and I'll set things up accordingly. Surely we won't run into any more skirmishes while we're there. _

_Hopefully you haven't forgotten me yet,_

_Eric Crawford_

_P.S. If you see that Blaise fellow again, please tell him that I'm sorry for having punched him in the jaw. It was purely accidental. Thank you._

Andi crowed with delight, "This is remarkable! Hurry up and owl him back immediately, telling him that you're more than ready for this Friday."

Hermione fumbled around for a quill and spare piece of parchment before writing:

_Dear Eric,_

_You'll be pleased to learn that your letter reached the intended party; your owl seems like a rather intelligent bird. _

"Are you going to sit there and talk about the damn bird all day?" Andi exclaimed. "Stop trying to wax eloquent and just get to the blasted point!"

"Okay, okay, Merlin! Will you hold on for a bloody second?" Hermione cried as she continued to pen her reply:

_Needless to say, your invitation sounds more than appealing: I'll be waiting for you this Friday at 5:00, if that's all right with you. _

_See you soon,_

_Hermione Granger_

She sealed the parchment and tied it back to Yuri's leg while saying, "Could you take this back to Eric, please?"

The sienna owl blinked its huge black eyes once before swooping away, an orange bullet framed by a blue sky.

Andi sighed and slid off the countertop. "Now that your potential boyfriend has almost thoroughly stolen my thunder, can we please get back to what _I_ came here for?"

Hermione turned away from the open window with an indulgent expression on her face. "All right, bring me the letter."

The petite girl pranced away and returned in a few seconds with the large envelope in her hand. "Here," she said excitedly as she thrust it at Hermione. "I want to see your reaction."

Brimming with curiosity, Hermione sliced open the envelope and watched as two big sheets of parchment fell into her lap. She picked up the top one and saw the label:

_Confirmation of Employment for Miss Hermione Jean Granger_

"Oh my god, Andi," she gasped, her throat suddenly getting very dry. "I – I think I've gotten myself a job!"

Andi clasped her hands together and began bouncing up and down ecstatically. "Don't leave me hanging! I don't know who's employed you; all I know is that _someone_ wants you! Go on, what does it say? I'm simply dying to know."

With slightly shaky fingers, Hermione smoothed out the parchment and cleared her throat once before reading:

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been employed at…_

"Oh, my god."

...

Draco angrily trudged back into the parlor feeling like his innards were boiling with the heat of his rage. _That…that…that insufferable, prissy, snobby little bitch! Merlin, I hate her SO MUCH, I don't think even words could describe it! Who the FUCK does she think she is, invading MY privacy, eating MY food, and trying to take a bloody tour of MY home? Damn it, I did not leave Hogwarts for four years just to face this pile of shit again! And what the blasted hell is going on with Blaise and that depraved excuse for a female? It's like they're bloody best friends for life now! _

His rampaging thoughts were interrupted by Blaise who brusquely cleared his throat and gave Draco a pointed look.

_What now?_

"Ah, there you are, Draco," his mother said as she glided back inside. Apparently she had left the room for a bit as well. "I was wondering where you had disappeared to."

Draco began, "Er, I was just at…" He rapidly glanced at Blaise who was furiously mouthing something and furrowed his brows in confusion. _It looks like he's saying wet swing or something…What the hell is trying to get me to understand? Screw it! _"Er, I was just in the library," he ended up saying.

Blaise loudly slapped his hand to his forehead and made a peculiar sound – a cross between a curse and a sigh.

Narcissa smoothed her dress out again and primly locked her fingers together behind her. "That's strange. Miss Granger told us that you had said you were going to work in one of the far wings."

_Oh Merlin, so that's what Blaise was trying to say: "West Wing!" Damn it. _

"Er, ah, well, that's where I thought I was going to go, but then I remembered I had something to check in the library."

"Mm, I see."

"But I'm here now. Was there something you wanted to discuss, Mother?"

Narcissa walked over to behind an armchair and rested her elbows on it, the golden sunlight illuminating her cornsilk hair. "Yes, there is. Blaise dear, I hope you won't mind if I ask you to leave."

Blaise leapt to his feet and shook his head in reassurance. "Oh no, don't worry Mrs. Malfoy. I should have left a while ago anyways. Draco," he added as he headed out. "I wanted to remind you that you and I still have to go to work today. It seems that Goldwin hasn't been able to delegate all our jobs today, so we have to go do them ourselves." He checked his gold-rimmed watch. "It's nearly eleven. I'll expect to see you at the office at around eleven forty-five. See you later, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa tipped her head in farewell as Blaise rushed off before turning to face Draco. He noted with some discomfort that his mother's features had hardened, her pale eyes exhibiting not an ounce of warmth.

"Sit down, Draco," she commanded. He immediately complied.

"Is something wrong, Mother?" he asked hesitantly, almost dreading the answer.

She let out a grim, tinkling laugh that would fool any outsider into thinking that all was well. Draco, however, knew that this was a sign that she was extremely vexed. "Yes, I do believe so. You know, Draco, even though you caught Needy in the act of espionage, you failed to notice another one of my faithful servants."

_Shit. Why doesn't she just dice me up now and save her breath?_

"Joy, my personal favorite, was also meandering along in that hallway," she continued. "You of course did not realize she was there, and because of that, she was able to hear everything you and Miss Granger…discussed." She had inserted a slight pause after Granger's name as if she had been looking for a more suitable word. "It pains me, dear," she went on. "It pains me very much to know that even now, my son still keeps secrets from me, gets into petty fights, and _still_ antagonizes people who do not deserve to be treated in such a way."

"Pardon me, Mother," Draco incredulously interjected. "But are you suggesting that I befriend Granger? That I go against everything this family has symbolized and defended?"

"You are ignorant, Draco!" Narcissa loudly declared. Her anger was even more pronounced with the fact that she had raised her voice. "You said it yourself, it is a new era of forgiveness and reconstruction. Why, then, are you closing your mind off to change and harmony? Good heavens darling, you're over twenty years old, and even now I have to chide you like I did all those years ago? You're not a child anymore, so don't make me treat you like one!"

"You don't know what kind of person she is!" Draco shouted. "She's arrogant, and egotistical, and aggravating!"

"Draco Malfoy, don't you dare raise your voice at me."

He heaved a great sigh in an attempt to calm himself. "Listen, Mother, you can't ask me to apologize to her or even approach her again. As far as I know or care, she isn't worth my time or my patience."

"From what I saw regarding how she dealt with Needy, I'd say she is worth more time or patience than you have. And even if you don't rectify matters with her, which is unlikely, there remains the issue of your going against my wishes time and time again."

"What do you mean?"

Narcissa glowered at her son and moved to sit down in the armchair. "You went to a discotheque last night."

Draco rubbed his face with his hands and said, "Mother, it was a one-time thing. You know that I don't do things like that all the t-"

"Are you aware that I do not approve of such activities?"

"Yes." _Man, I do not need this bloody trouble today._

"Do you know how disturbed I was when I heard that you were involved in a scuffle?"

"Mother, I'm – "

"Do you know how anxious I was when I discovered that you had to be admitted to St. Mungo's last night?"

"I'm really sorry, Mother, I am…"

"What," hissed Narcissa. "What gives you the right to drive your poor mother insane? Have you no concern for my welfare? Do you know what would happen to me if something horrid happened to you?"

"Mother, really, I'm sorry to have caused you to feel so bad. Please, may I be excused now?" he pleaded. _I need to get out of here._

"No, you most certainly may not. I have another point to discuss," she replied sharply.

Draco let his shoulders droop and acknowledged defeat. "Can I just go ahead and say sorry in advance?"

"Be quiet!" she snapped. "Merlin knows how I got saddled with such a deceptive and ill-mannered son."

"Deceptive? I haven't deceived you at all!"

"Oh, please, don't play this game with me, Draco! I know perfectly well that you were _deflowered_ by an anonymous girl when you were fifteen!" She flung the word "deflowered" from her lips as if it were the most repulsive thing she'd ever encountered.

"WHAT?" bellowed Draco, his eyes bulging and his fingers mercilessly clutching the chair's armrests. "Did Blaise tell you this?"

"He didn't have to. I found out by myself. I have my ways."

_This. Can. Not. Be. Happening. GET ME OUT OF HERE! _

"Did you ever find out her name?" Narcissa asked conversationally as she pretended to examine her neatly manicured nails. _What the hell? Is she bipolar or something? How did she get so calm all of a sudden?_

Draco cursed every deity he could think of while repeatedly clenching and releasing his fists. "No." _It's going to be a dark day in Britain when I find out how she knows about this._

"How quaint," she said before rising from the chair, her mouth set in one churlish line. "Because, Draco, it might surprise you to hear that I know who it is."

He gaped at her with undisguised shock and earnestly asked, "Who? Who?"

She smirked at him with all the smugness of one who holds a delectable secret. "I don't quite feel like telling you, darling. And as far as _I_ know or care, _you _aren't worth my time or patience any longer. Toodles, dear. Oh, and don't forget to change before you go to work."

Draco hastened to his chamber after his mother had swept out of the parlor. _This is, perhaps, one of the worst days of my life. Now I have to effing go to work, knowing that a) Mother is going to blackmail me sometime soon, and b) I may now have to watch out for the Killing Curse at all times because Granger, no doubt, wants to kill me. _Off came his worn shirt and sweatpants, and on went a light gray dress shirt with black trousers. _A few spritzes of cologne, throw on that white-gold watch some family friend gave you, nice socks and shoes, and…done. Now all you have to do is act like you __**don't**__ bloody want to commit a mass genocide today._

Within moments, he was at the office, sitting in his high-back, silver colored leather chair, and devouring a nice Reuben sandwich. He had just finished dabbing at his mouth with his napkin when Blaise entered the room.

The swarthy bloke settled on a chair directly across from Draco and folded his arms across his chest. "So, how was Mother Dragon?"

Draco absentmindedly shredded his napkin with his fingers as he offhandedly replied, "Fine. It was fine."

Blaise shook his head and began fiddling with a pen. "I tried to help you out, mate. I was trying to get you to say 'West Wing', but obviously, I failed in my attempts."

"Ah, yes."

"So…nothing's wrong, then?"

"Hm."

Blaise frowned with concern. "That doesn't sound very promising."

Draco spun once in his chair while emitting a humorless chuckle before stopping in front of Blaise and slamming his hands down on his desk, causing the other man to jump. "Did you know," he growled viciously. "That my mother knows that I had sex with some girl back in fifth year?"

Blaise looked genuinely aghast at this and gasped, "What?"

"And she doesn't just know that I did it, she even knows with whom I did it."

"Bloody hell! Well, what are you going to do about it?"

Draco leaned back and shrugged. "There's nothing to do. I've asked her to divulge, and she refused. So here I am, festering in the dark, waiting to be enlightened. Tell me, do you have any idea who the girl could be or how Mother found out about this incident?"

Blaise shook his head again and crossed his legs over. "No mate, not a chance. I know as little as you do. Blast, this is a right mess, isn't it?"

"Someone is clearly asking to be murdered."

"Right, well, despite these troubling circumstances, I wanted to ask you if you've seen the file on the new employees."

Draco massaged his temple and muttered, "Oh yeah, I have some recollection of seeing a letter about that this morning - before all this other shit happened."

"Did you happen to read it?"

"No, why?"

"Well, maybe you should take a look at it," Blaise mumbled rather uneasily as he extracted a list from his briefcase.

"What, did you hire McGonagall to be our top lingerie model or something?" Draco joked as he took the paper.

"Er, no. Just…read it and make sure it's okay."

Draco rolled his eyes before flipping the paper onto its blank side and sliding it back towards his bemused friend. "I've known you for nearly eighteen years now. I _think _I can trust you enough to choose a handful of qualified people to become a part of our company. I don't want the world thinking that I have a bigger say in things than you do, because that's the point of this whole venture: to show people that we are a team, a partnership, a dynamic duo that can reach for the stars. So you don't have to come crying to me for everything just to get these little details confirmed." _Wow, that sounded incredibly cheesy. Maybe I should clap him on the back once to really complete this sentimental scene. It's like something out of a freaking greetings card._

Blaise blinked a few times as if trying to understand a difficult question, his brown cheeks gaining a reddish hue. "Wow, Drake, er, that's really kind of you to say that. And I don't want you to think that I'm sabotaging the company or something, but I don't know, I thought you might want to see the list anyways."

Draco waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and raked through his hair with his hand. "Nah, don't worry about it. I trust your judgment."

"Yeah…"

The door swung open again, this time allowing Draco's personal secretary, Angela Goldwin, to enter. "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini, but your twelve-thirty appointment is here," she chirped, her horn-rimmed glasses slipping down her pert nose.

The two men got up and nodded simultaneously. Before they both departed for the meeting room, Blaise stopped in front of Draco and asked again, "Are you _positive_ you don't want to see the list?"

"Merlin, Blaise, stop chewing my brains out! Didn't I already tell you that I don't feel the need to? Calm down!"

"If you're certain…"

"I am certain," Draco stated exasperatedly. "Besides, I know you don't want to torture me or kill me slowly, so I'm pretty damn sure that you haven't hired anyone unbearable like…oh, say, Granger or something."

_Haha, imagine Royal Gryffindor Prude Granger waltzing into my office and telling me she's going to model for me. What a hilarious thought!_

Chortling to himself, Draco easily pushed past Blaise and walked over to the meeting room, determined to somehow make his day turn for the better. But, if he had been paying better attention to his friend, he would have noticed that Blaise had never actually said anything back regarding that crack about Granger.

_Hermione Granger working for me – HA! What a joke._

...

**EXTRA TIDBIT: I wanted to kind of get to know my readers a bit better, so if it's not too much trouble, tell me in your review if your mother is anything like Draco's. :)**

**Link to see what my Narcissa looks like (take out the spaces): http: / www . badeagle .com / badeagle /blonde. jpg**

...

**x. enchanted x.- Your reviews got me off my lazy butt and actually put me to work. Thank you SO much for all your heartwarming praise!**

**Focid - Aw, thanks. Haha, I hope you aren't shirking your schoolwork for fanfiction. *HYPOCRISY ALERT* XD**

**Lady Allan - Yeah, I've always loved the idea of having that one amazing, bubbly, take-charge kind of friend who's always there, no matter what. :)**

**amazingtofu - You won't believe how quickly my heart dropped when I saw that you wrote Ch. 3 was "decent". But then I saw you were joking, and I gained consciousness again...**

**Starangel0 - Haha, now I know why you liked that sentence. Sexual tension, much?**

**ilovetivo - Wow, thanks for reading both of my stories! I'm glad you enjoyed them. Keep reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**To my amazing, dedicated readers: Believe me when I say I hate myself for this incredibly long hiatus in my updates. It was entirely unplanned, and I am furious with myself for not behaving more responsibly. I hope you all don't think I'm giving up on the story...I'm just having a difficult time juggling high school with various extracurriculars. Can anyone empathize? **

**Extra Note: If you find this chapter to be excessively lame, please let me know in a kind manner so that I can go bang my head against the wall. I know this isn't exactly a Pulitzer-deserving chapter. Oh, and if you can find it in your hearts to do it, please review! I'd like at least 115 total in order to update the next chapter.**

**OFFICIAL CHAPTER DEDICATION: _Azriel - Auras _for his wonderful feedback and editing skills. God knows how he can find time to read my junk and manage his own hectic life as well.**

**CHAPTER 5**** – You've Got a Friend in Me**

**...**

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been employed at "Sinful", Britain's fastest growing enterprise, headed by Mr. Draco Malfoy and Mr. Blaise Zabini. Due to your impressive exhibition of poise, elegance, and finesse, we (the undersigned members of Magical Modeling Agency) believe you will prove to be an invaluable asset for the aforementioned company's ad campaigns. Your photos have been duly scrutinized and approved of by Mr. Blaise Zabini himself, and he has stated that he will be more than happy to have you begin work as soon as possible. He has asked us to inform you that you have a brief interview with him and possibly a few other people today, July 2__nd__, at 2:30. We hope you are pleased by this incredible opportunity to commence a most suitable career. _

_Signed,_

_Henry Futterson, Manager_

_Gloria Norbury, Assistant Manager_

_Zachary Primbottom, Assistant Manager_

_*The other page holds all of our contact information in case your employer has any concerns or questions._

"An unfortunate surname for a man," Andrea muttered, her eyes fixated on the word "Primbottom."

"Never mind that last name," Hermione rasped in a suddenly feeble voice. "Look at the name of my new employer!" She snatched the letter out of Andi's hand and read in an almost manic tone, "It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been employed at 'Sinful', Britain's fastest growing enterprise, headed by Mr. Draco Malfoy and Mr. Blaise Zabini!" She covered her face with the papers and groaned, "God, is this someone's idea of a joke?"

Andi delicately retrieved the papers before saying soothingly, "Come on, Hermione, it can't and won't be all that bad."

"You're right – it'll be much, much worse."

"Don't be absurd!" Andi exclaimed, unused to seeing such despondency in her friend. "We're all adults, not mindless children who have to tease and taunt each other about the most pathetic things. I'm sure that you and Malfoy have just gotten off on the wrong foot because you came across each other so suddenly the other night. If what you've told me about you two's history is true, then you could hardly expect him to immediately warm up to you after four years of hated remembrance."

"Exactly!" Hermione cried. "We _hate_ each other, Andi! We absolutely loathe one another. I can't stand him, and he bloody well can't stand me. Talking to him is like walking on burning coals, being around him is like lying on a bed of rusty nails, and simply _thinking _about him makes me feel like someone is shoving bamboo splinters into my eyes!"

Andi made a whooshing sound as she exhaled, her face twisted into an expression of disbelief. "Cor, you're bloody passionate about this, aren't you? I swear, if I didn't know you any better, I'd think you had some sort of deep attraction to the man!"

_Deep attraction to MALFOY? I've had deeper attractions to my sweat socks! _

Hermione indignantly sputtered, "Well, thank the lord that you do know me better than that! Let me make something clear to you: even if he were the last man left in the world, I still wouldn't want to have anything to do with him!"

"I'm not asking you to marry him, Hermy. All I'm advising you to do is to let the past stay in the past. You've finally gotten work that's going to pan out excellently for you, at least in financial and job security terms. Don't you think it's worth it to let bygones be bygones and just focus on your blessings?"

"I don't consider it a blessing to be stuck with someone who mixes poison with his coffee every morning and has a fetish for the color green."

Andi's mouth fell into an oval shape and her eyes glazed over slightly. "He really has a fetish for the color green?"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "_No._ I was just making it up. Wait, why the hell are we even discussing Malfoy's fetishes? Weren't we supposed to be talking about my new career prospect?"

Andi shrugged, her brief moment of sexual fantasizing over. "You were the one who brought it up. And here's what I think you ought to be reminded of: one, you're going to have Blaise Zabini on your side, all right? That right there is a big, big plus. Think about it, Hermione! You're going to have Draco Malfoy's _best friend_ on your side! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It just means that Malfoy's going to end up inhabiting an Azkaban cell for committing two murders instead of one," Hermione muttered darkly. _Not necessarily… you could always just get to him first, Hermione. Ooooh, the possibilities. _

"It's amazing how a couple of encounters with Malfoy have caused you to once again acquire the emotional maturity of a five-year old," Andi stated sarcastically. "I am seriously wondering if I should test you for substance abuse right now or not, because I have never seen you act this wimpy over such a trivial matter."

There was silence for a few moments until Hermione wearily slouched over and said softly, "You don't understand. Even if I try to make amends, there's no way he's going to cooperate."

"So you'll have to make him cooperate, won't you?"

"Listen to yourself, Andi. Make him cooperate? And what, get my head chopped off in the process? I can assure you that I won't be much of a hit in the modeling world after I'm decapitated, in case you're wondering."

"Hermione, you're a woman. Use those charms, those feminine wiles. Don't make me have to lecture you on the significance of a single hip swing in the male world."

Hermione scoffed at the thought of trying to act coquettish around Malfoy. She'd just as easily flirt with a doorknob. "Whatever. I mean, even if I do put on a charade like that, there's still not going to be a chance of him showing me any mercy. I know Blaise will give me a bit of support, but you and I both know that in the end, he's going to take Malfoy's side."

"Honey, you are going to become a _star _– a luscious, gorgeous, renowned star. Forget Malfoy - think of all the money and fame you're going to reap in! Because this, Herms, I can guarantee: you definitely have the right stuff to make a huge splash in the company's ads."

Hermione bit her lip in contemplation. "It's all about the money, isn't it? The only reason I'm doing this is for the money." She put her head in her hands as a mild headache began. "I need to get my priorities straight."

Andi slowly rubbed Hermione's shoulders and said comfortingly, "Yeah, that's it. Just keep your priorities in line, and everything will work out fine on its own."

Brown eyes began drowning in instantaneous tears of guilt. "I can't believe I've been so bloody selfish! I should've jumped for joy at the chance to have such a well-paying, secure job! Even if I miraculously manage to scrounge up the money for my exams, I'll still have my mother to take care of!" She leaned into Andi and buried her face in the girl's shoulder as she wept. "I am such a bitch, Andi! All this time, I didn't ever stop to think of my mother and what this means for her medication. I'm finally going to get _real_ money that I can use to look after her properly, and all I can wail about is being forced to work with some stupid pretty boy. What the hell is wrong with me? When did I morph into such an egocentric monster?"

_This isn't a soap opera, Hermione. Stop being so melodramatic and get yourself into gear. _

"Hermione, hush," Andrea sternly ordered. "You know damn well that you have done more than was asked of you for your mother, and you have absolutely no earthly reason to rag on yourself like this! I suggest that instead of moping around like a worthless bum, you go clean yourself up while I find you an outfit. Then, we'll both head for that interview of yours."

"No lunch?" Hermione mumbled as she slowly walked over to her bathroom.

"Here, I'll throw together a salad really quickly," Andi called while rummaging around the fridge.

_What you need is a hot and refreshing shower. Let Andi fix up lunch along with your outfit, and just sit back and relax. God knows you'll need to be as de-stressed as possible if you really do intend to go through with the interview. _

She poured her favorite vanilla body wash onto a sponge-brush and watched as most of her anxiety went down the drain. Outside, she could hear Andi talking to herself: "Why the hell does this girl never wear any of this? She could dress like a bombshell every day, and she chooses to dress like a freaking nun!" Hermione sighed and dropped her head backwards, exposing the skin of her neck to the pelting water. _Stop worrying so much. It's just Malfoy – are you really this afraid of him? _She jerked her head back up and glared at the soap rack in front of her. _No, I'm not afraid. I'll never be afraid of him. Hate does not equal fear in my world. _

Andi started pounding on the bathroom door. "Hurry up!" she yelled. "You've still got to eat and dress!"

Hermione reluctantly turned the knob on the shower before wrapping herself in a fluffy towel. She galumphed into her room and hurriedly tugged on her underwear while Andi dished out the salad in the kitchen. "I'm done!" she declared once she had slathered lotion onto her legs.

"Finally," Andi complained. She pulled out a short suede skirt and a crème blouse decorated with gauzy frills. "I was beginning to think you'd committed hara-kiri in there."

Hermione snorted as she hurriedly donned the clothes and began applying some unfortunately necessary makeup. "Ha! I'm saving that part for later, didn't you know?" She stepped back and took in the reflection visible on the full-length mirror. "This skirt is too short. I can't wear it."

Andi snaked her arm around Hermione's and heartily tugged the protesting brunette out into the kitchen area. "Talk later, eat now."

"But this is completely un –"

"Eat. The. Damn. Salad."

_Merlin help me, I am becoming a doormat,_ Hermione thought as she balefully shoved forkfuls of lettuce and tomatoes into her mouth.

"Fancy a glass of juice?"

Hermione glowered at the other girl and hurriedly chugged a glass of water. "No," she replied while roughly setting the glass down. "I have to brush my teeth so that I don't end up smiling with a mouthful of slobbery green gums."

"Although Malfoy might enjoy that, eh?" Andi rolled her eyes at Hermione's glare and pointed her wand at her. "Calm down, it was just a joke. Here, this'll save you some time." She muttered a quick cleansing spell that left Hermione's mouth tasting like mint. "Now will you allow us to shove off?"

Hermione sighed and slipped her feet into a pair of relatively gentle two-inch heels. "Sure, let's go give Malfoy a heart attack."

"That's the spirit, Hermy. Before you know it you'll be rolling in the galleons, and you'll have no one to thank but me."

The two walked out and held hands, allowing Andrea to transport them to the new office of "Sinful." Hermione tipped her head back to look up at the enormous pillars and felt a darting of unease in her stomach. _Surely you aren't thinking about turning back, Hermione? _They click-clacked into the main lobby and approached the soft-featured receptionist lady.

"Yes?" she asked, her hands busy rearranging numerous sheets of parchment.

"Er, hello," Andi said cheerfully. "My friend, Hermione Granger, is here for her two-thirty appointment with Mr. Zabini."

The lady glanced at something on her desk before returning to the stacks of papers. "Yes, go ahead – up the stairs and third door on the right."

"Thank you. Come on, Hermione!" Andi called excitedly, already scampering up the marble staircase.

Hermione followed her friend up, carefully noting the expensive furnishings of the office. _Even the staircase railings are gilded; one wonders if Malfoy decorates in this way for his pleasure or for others. _At the end of the staircase was a long hallway lined with doors. Hermione tentatively traipsed on to the third door on the right – as the receptionist had mentioned – and firmly grasped the brass knob. Setting her shoulders back and slightly clenching her jaw, she swiftly opened the door and stepped in with Andrea right behind her.

The instant she entered, any and all conversation within the room ceased, and the only movement for a few seconds was from Blaise who cordially stood up from his chair and said, "Why, hello Hermione. Good to see that you could make it. Please, have a seat."

She diligently gazed at the floor as she sat down in the nearest chair, sure that temperature in the room had gone down a number of degrees. Andrea settled down on her right, and after that, there was a painfully deafening silence.

"So, Hermione," Blaise began, causing her to lift her eyes from the remarkably interesting carpet. "I presume you are somewhat interested in the modeling industry? I must admit, I was surprised to see your pictures in the envelope that the agency sent me."

She swallowed. _Talk, Hermione, TALK. This is an interview, people are supposed to TALK in these things. You're letting a pathetic weasel intimidate you this much? I have never been so ashamed of you!_ Not a single sound came out of her mouth even though she parted her lips with the intention of saying something.

"Yes!" Andrea quickly exclaimed in a brave attempt to save Hermione. "Er, it was actually I who coaxed her into getting the pictures done. The stubborn girl was determined to die penniless, but I refused to watch her drown in such a fate!"

A scornful cough was issued by the towheaded man next to Blaise. Hermione bit her lip and practically stared at Blaise's face.

"Are you a member of the agency?" The question was obviously directed at Andrea.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Zabini. I'm actually a very new employee, but I thought that maybe Hermione and I would both benefit from an intervention on my behalf, so…"

Blaise nodded. "Right. Well, that was an excellent move on your part, Miss…?"

"Andrea. Just call me Andrea."

"Okay – Andrea. Like I was saying, that was well-thought of you. I can assure you both that we are a very model-centric company, and there is never a shortage of opportunities for our employees. Hermione?" He shifted his attention again. "Would you like to work here?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "I – I would," she croaked. "Very much like to do so." _It's difficult to talk when you have daggers being shot at you._

Blaise snatched a water bottle from behind him and rolled it across the table towards Hermione. She picked it up and took a few sips before placing it back on the table and gratefully saying, "Thanks."

"Yeah, you looked like you needed that."

Andrea laughed. "She's nervous, can't you tell?"

Blaise raised his eyebrows in surprise before smiling and saying, "Well, she certainly has no reason to be. I've already checked your records and everything, Hermione. You're absolutely cleared and more than adequately qualified for this job. All we need to handle now are your preferences, your salary and contract, and your starting day of work."

"Er, what do you mean by preferences?" Hermione inquired.

"Oh, it means what fields of modeling you'd like to participate in. If you're a hit, which seems inevitable, then we'll be able to use you in different departments. For example, you may start out in simple perfumes. But eventually, you'll move on to a vast range of clothing and jewelry. What do you think?"

"That sounds…good. I think I'll be fine with whatever you put me in."

Blaise grinned widely and made a series of checkmarks on a parchment in front of him. "Wonderful. Now, because you've accepted a heavier workload than most, how does thirty-five galleons per session sound to you?"

Hermione, unsure of what to decide, turned to Andrea whose jaw had dropped. "Well, what should I do, Andi?" she whispered softly. "Take it or leave it?"

Andi blinked at least seven times before whispering back, "Hermione, this is incredible! Most models get around fifteen or twenty per session – you're getting thirty-five? Hurry up and say yes and sign the bloody contract!"

Hermione turned to Blaise and said, "That sounds fine. What does the contract have about the amount of time I have to work for the company?"

"You're to work here for a year before you can leave us."

"All right, that's fine with me as well. And about the day I start work: I'll go ahead and begin tomorrow if that's okay with you."

Blaise began scribbling things all over several scrolls of parchment. "Wow, that's great! It's nice to see someone actually wanting to start as soon as possible. Report here tomorrow at nine. Your hours will be nine-to-five, and along with the basic modeling, you'll also be in charge of managing some records and doing some research on our competition. Basically, it's a 'know your enemy' thing, you know what I mean?"

Hermione let her gaze flash once to Malfoy's face before answering, "Yes. I know that phrase very well."

Blaise finished off his writing with a flourish of his quill. "Ah, great." He leaned back in his chair and peered over at _his_ friend who appeared to be experiencing some sort of intense pain. "Well, Draco, you haven't said anything this entire time. Do you have anything to add?"

Malfoy idly ran his finger along the length of his quill before reaching the midpoint. With a swift push, he snapped the quill in half. Then he proceeded to break the two pieces into even smaller fragments.

"Well, if you've got nothing to say then we'll just –"

"She's not working here, Blaise," Malfoy stated quietly. "End of story."

**Snap.**

**...**

There. He'd said it. He'd let them have their fun, deluding one another that this was actually a good idea; then, he'd dropped the bomb of reality.

_There was never a chance of this happening in the first place._

He knew Granger wanted to pick up the sharp remains of the quill in front of him and drive them into his neck, but he didn't mind. He simply relished the satisfaction he got from watching her jaw drop.

"May I know the reason for this harsh denial?" she asked coldly after silently mouthing a couple of colorful curses. The water bottle she had snatched up again crackled obnoxiously in her hands.

Draco leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands on the table. "Simple," he replied just as frostily. "One, I don't like you, and two, you haven't got what it takes."

She widened her eyes in mock astonishment and crushed the water bottle with her palms. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I forget to mention that I didn't come here on my own? I was sought out by a certified agency, and if they can give me their seal of approval, then you sure as hell can too."

"Ah, but despite whatever bogus company you registered under, there still remains the problem of me wanting to see you drop off the face of the earth."

She narrowed her eyes and scathingly remarked, "Comfort yourself with the thought that the hateful feeling is completely mutual."

He opened his mouth to say something back, but Blaise quickly leapt to his feet and exclaimed, "All right! This immature altercation has gone on long enough. Hermione," he said kindly to her. "Could you please wait two minutes while I speak with Draco outside? Thank you." With that, he grabbed Draco and lurched him outside the meeting room, leaving behind a pair of incensed witches.

Blaise began pacing back and forth in front of the meeting room's doors, his forehead crumpled in irritation. "Draco, for Merlin's sake, give the girl a break and let her have the job."

Draco leaned idly against the wall and pretended to brush a speck of dust off his sleeve. "Sorry mate, no can do. I've given my opinion on the matter, and you know exactly what to do with it."

"Yes, I do," Blaise remarked acidly as he made a not-so-nice gesture involving his middle finger. "I can kick it out and tell it to screw itself."

"Why are you so adamant about employing that…that…shrew? I mean, honestly, what do you see in her?"

"Well, I can see her as my wife, the mother of my five future children, the companion to my old age."

Draco nearly slid down against the marble upon hearing this. _What the bloody hell?_

Blaise crossed his arms across his chest and said grimly, "Ask a stupid question, and you get a stupid answer. I think you know just as well as I do exactly why I want her to be a part of this company. She's _Hermione Granger_! And if anyone knows just how incredibly intelligent she is, it's you!"

Draco curled his hands into fists and stood his ground. "I will not allow some frizzy-haired, bombastic, worthless girl overrule MY say in this matter! She can go find work somewhere else."

Blaise drew out his wand and flicked it upwards, causing a long document to unfurl mid-air. "Ah, let's see here," he muttered as he perused the scroll. "'I, Draco Malfoy, do hereby swear to share fifty percent of all management powers with my partner, Blaise Zabini.'" He continued to read on until he found what he wanted. "Yes, yes here it is! 'Let it be noted that from this moment on, Blaise Zabini is solely in charge of confirming new employment for the company. I, Draco Malfoy, may give advice or suggestions, but in the end, Blaise Zabini will make the final decision."

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

Blaise looked up triumphantly, waiting for Draco to say something.

_Was I bloody drunk when I wrote that? How the hell did I just turn over that power to him? Shit, this means that Granger really IS going to work here. NO! HOW COULD THIS BE HAPPENING TO ME? DAMN YOU, BLAISE!_

Careful not to lose his hold on his dignity, Draco straightened up and gazed coolly into Blaise's smirking face. "Well, that's that, I guess."

_SON OF A FUCKING BITCH! WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING HERE? I CANNOT BELIEVE I AM HAVING TO LET THIS FUCKING TOSSER WALK ALL OVER ME! WHOSE ESTABLISHMENT IS THIS ANYWAYS? MINE, RIGHT? SO WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING, HANDING OVER DUTIES TO MY ALLEGED BEST FRIEND! SERVES ME RIGHT FOR NOT DOING THE WORK MYSELF AND DEALING WITH MY OWN CONSEQUENCES! _

"Excellent. We should go back in now and tell Hermione the good news."

_Oh yes, let's. And then we can all go to my house, have some tea and crumpets, and give each other sensual massages because we are all such good friends now._

"Draco," Blaise sighed before entering the room. "Try to fix your expression – you look like a gargoyle."

Draco wordlessly strode past Blaise into the room and plopped into his chair, all the while clenching his fists as tightly as possible.

"Well, my dear ladies," Blaise merrily announced. "We have concluded that it is perfectly all right for Hermione to work here! We could not think of a more deserving or more qualified candidate."

Draco watched as Granger shot him a skeptical glare before offering Blaise a tentative smile. The short, pretty girl stood up and gave Granger an overwhelming hug while squealing endlessly.

Once the din had subsided, Granger got up from her seat and walked over to where Blaise was standing. "Blaise," she said softly with what seemed to be tears in her eyes _(Oh, of all bloody nonsense, _Draco harrumphed mentally._) _"You – you have saved my life. Really, you have. Thank you so much."

Blaise grinned warmly down at her and placed his hands in her slightly shaking ones. "You never had any reason to doubt your place here, Hermione. Besides, you've got a friend in me, and I won't ever let you forget that."

At those words, Granger threw her arms around a pleasantly surprised Blaise and hugged him. Draco narrowed his eyes at the display and turned his chair to face the wall once he saw that Blaise had started to hug her back.

A loud throat-clearing from the other girl caused the two to swiftly let go of each other.

Granger sounded flustered. "Erm, I should go now."

"Ah, yes, no need to stay here any longer. See you tomorrow."

The pretty one said, "Thank you very much for your help, Mr. Zabini."

"It was entirely my pleasure."

"Good bye!"

"Yes, good bye."

After the door had closed, Blaise sat on the table and yawned before saying, "You know, mate, you really ought to have said 'good luck' or something."

"You know I have no reason at all to wish her 'good luck.'"

"Still -"

Suddenly, Draco heard the sound of the door opening again. Blaise leapt to his feet. "Why, Hermione!" he exclaimed. "What brings you back?"

"I – I just forgot to do something. I'll only be a minute."

Draco could hear footsteps coming toward him. _What is she doing?_

The footsteps stopped. "Malfoy?"

He didn't bother to respond. After all, he knew that she wasn't really expecting him to congratulate her or even speak to her – especially not after he had been against her employment from the start.

"I know you don't want me here, and I know just how much you dislike me. But…what I wanted to say was…thank you."

_What?_

"Thank you for choosing to let me stay, even though the choice went against your personal preferences."

Draco so dearly wanted to inform her that he had never eased up on his opinion. He had merely just been a victim of his own stupidity.

Her voice got even softer, and he thought he felt her place a hand on the back of his chair. "Maybe someday you'll understand just how much a job like this means to me. For now, I hope you'll just accept my sincere gratitude."

With that, she turned and walked away. Once the door had shut for the final time, the air was filled with a deafening silence.

"Do you still want to know what I see in her?" Blaise asked finally.

"Can you just leave me alone?"

"Suit yourself."

And then, Draco was left to himself. The dark wall in front of him offered him nothing: no advice, no enlightenment, and no support. Why did she have to screw things up like that? There he was, having a fine time loathing her guts, and she just had to return to offer her thanks. Of course, it wasn't helping that his conscience had suddenly decided to return from retirement either.

_Merlin, help me._

The following morning, Blaise found Draco hunched over at his handsomely carved desk with his fingers rubbing his temple. "Do you want to observe the first photo shoot with her, Draco?"

Draco grunted. "No. I have better things to do than watch a prissy little nobody make tortured expressions at the camera. You go."

"All the same, it would probably boost her morale…"

"Stop pulling at strings and just leave, Blaise. It's not like my presence will cause her to take on a better appearance or anything – rather, I'd probably make her vomit all over the studio."

Blaise grimaced before turning on his heel. "She's going to start the work for the 'Temptation' perfume today, in case you're curious."

"Great. Let me know when our company goes bankrupt."

"You don't give her much credit, mate."

"I thought you were leaving."

"Just come and see once! If you don't like what you see, then I'll never ask again. But just ONCE will you haul your arse to the studio? For my sake?"

"Do you even want to know how gay you just sounded?"

"Will you or will you not?"

Draco heaved an immense sigh before getting to his feet and grumbling, "Fine, lead me to this place. But if I end up in the mental trauma ward of St. Mungo's, then I'm placing charges against you and Granger."

"Trust me when I say this, Draco. The last thing Granger's going to cause today is mental trauma."

...

**C.E. Sparks - I'm glad my stories bring a little amusement into your life. :) Hope you'll continue reading!**

**C. Kiss - Thanks so much! Hahaha, aren't neurotic moms just wonderful?**

**Serpent of Slytherin - Wow, your review totally cheered me up. I hope you'll like this chapter...**

**DracoAndMeliny - Haha, yes, this was definitely meant to be awkward. I felt a pang of regret for Draco as I was typing the part with his mom, but then I decided to ignore it - Draco will get what he deserves. ;)**

**emily-stone - Okay, so I feel really bad right now as I'm thinking about you and your impatience. I'M SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT! T_T Er...did you like this chapter?**


	6. Chapter 6

**First of all, I want to give cyber-hugs to EVERYONE who contributed to the reviews for chapter 5...you guys went WAY above what I'd expected, and now I have a grand total of 130 reviews instead of my originally expected 115! Seriously, give yourselves a hug from me, because you totally deserve it! So now that I've seen what you all are capable of, is it possible that I could raise my limit? Hmm...how about 155 reviews at least before I update again? Please? ^^**

**Extra Note: Nice work to those of you who recognized Chapter 5's title to be Randy Newman's song from "Toy Story." Here's my challenge for you musical ones out there - can you tell me what song THIS chapter's title is from? First one to get it receives the next chapter dedication!**

**OFFICIAL CHAPTER DEDICATION: _x. enchanted _._x_** **for constantly providing me with uplifting, fun reviews! Thank you so much! (Sorry I had to put spaces in your name - for some reason, FF isn't letting me type it all together.)**

**CHAPTER 6 - Kings and Vagabonds**

She was nervous...so very, very nervous. In fact, she hadn't even felt this nervous when she had made her entrance with Viktor during the Yule Ball. That time, it had been different – she had just wanted to surprise people. But now, she was going to have to impress, and that was what made it all so very nerve-wracking. Because honestly, how many people would be able to model in front of the critical eyes of Blaise Zabini (and, lord have mercy, Draco Malfoy himself)? It wasn't that she had many exterior flaws; she just couldn't bring herself to quite comprehend the magnitude of the matter. She knew that if she stopped to really think about it, her legs would collapse from under her.

_Oh, I wish Andi were here._

Hermione gazed into the brightly lit mirror and saw a pair of smoky eyes peering back at her. It all seemed so alien: the rosy lips, the lightly bronzed skin, and the nominally darkened eyebrows. And her _hair_ – it cascaded down her bare shoulders and back in silky amber waves, framing her face and unadorned throat. She stepped back and examined her long, flowing dress: it was of a simple yet ethereal material that flared out in a triangular pattern, beginning in a creamy hue at the bust area and then transitioning into a gentle maroon.

_Thank god this dress covers my chest. The last thing I need is for the whole world to ogle what sadly resembles a couple of mosquito bites. _

Inhaling deeply, she gently nudged the door open, made her way out of the makeup artist's room, and stepped into the photo studio. A woman of about thirty looked her up and down once before snapping her bubblegum and saying, "Mr. Zabini will be down shortly. Go ahead and get situated with my assistant Willy so that we can do some starter shots."

Hermione nodded and walked onto what appeared to be the designated photo shoot area. The background was enchanted to show a dark bedroom solely illuminated by a crackling fire, while the floor was coated with hundreds of coffee – colored rose petals.

"All right, miss," Willy said as he pointed to an area next to the "fire." "I want you to stand there, arch your back slightly so that your collarbone is exposed, part your lips just a hint, and then look straight into the camera. This will be an experimental shot, but if need be, we can use this pose again for the real thing."

Hermione swallowed her mounting anxiety and nodded as she followed his commands. Feeling rather awkward, she stared black depths of the camera lens, waiting for the telltale click and flash.

The lady with the gum wrenched her head out from behind the camera. "Oi, Willy! She can't be wearing her shoes! Weren't you born with any common sense, you dumb blighter?"

Willy, a scrawny little fellow, dashed forward while apologizing profusely. "Good god, I'll fix that up right quick. Here miss, let me have your shoes."

Hermione slipped her black flats off into Willy's hand before returning to her pose. "Erm, excuse me?" she called out tentatively to the photographer lady. "Will I need the perfume with me?"

The lady smacked her hand against her forehead in frustration and cried, "Willy, you irresponsible mutt! Kindly go fetch the perfume. We can't have a perfume ad without the perfume, now can we?"

The wretched man stumbled off into one of the adjacent rooms, but soon returned with an oval shaped bottle filled with a dark red liquid. Across the vial was written "Temptation" in exquisite calligraphy.

"Here, miss," Willy mumbled as he handed Hermione the perfume. "Take this, hold it in both hands, and then raise it up to your lips like it's an apple."

Hermione did so, and before she could blink, the photographer shouted, "Well done!" Then there was a white flash that seemed to surround her from all sides.

The photographer stepped back and examined her handiwork on a panel on the back of the camera. "Ah, yes…I need to tone the flash down. Willy, turn all the light dials to warm."

Once the changes had been made, the lady addressed Hermione: "Okay girlie, do that same pose again, and this time, give me some allure in those eyes of yours."

"I'm sorry, I don't exactly know how to do that," Hermione responded. Her cheeks burned pink. _When was the last time I didn't know how to do something?_

The obviously impatient woman rolled her eyes and muttered something like "Where do they find these jokers?" before saying, "It's not that hard, doll. Just stare into the camera and pretend like you're trying to get someone to sleep with you."

Hermione felt herself turn full-on red and dropped her posture into normalcy. "I'm terribly sorry, but I still can't really grasp what you mean."

"What, are you trying to tell me you don't know the meaning of 'sleeping with' someone? What are you, two? Bloody hell, I'll be damned if I know where the company picks up amateurs like you."

A loud, masculine voice boomed through the air. "Norma, you have exactly five seconds to apologize to Hermione before I have you escorted out from the premises."

Hermione, Willy, and Norma simultaneously pivoted to see Blaise standing in the doorway. Norma blanched when she realized that her boss had just overheard her outburst.

"Mr. Zabini, I can assure you I meant no harm," she began, her tone suddenly sugary sweet. "I was merely pointing out –"

"Spare me," Blaise said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just apologize and get it over with. Your immature antics are wasting all of our valuable time."

Norma bowed her head and muttered a hasty "sorry" to Hermione. Then, she scurried back to her camera, ducked behind it, and began fiddling with various knobs and buttons in an effort to appear totally undisturbed.

"I'm sorry you had to face Norma's belligerence, Hermione," Blaise said quietly as he walked onto the petal-covered area. "She's been a bit off ever since we had to get rid of her troublesome other assistant."

"Oh no, it's fine. I'm not really too fixated right now on the way people act towards me."

He drew away and observed her as she flushed with embarrassment. "You look wonderful, by the way. The sultry theme suits you."

Keeping her eyes lowered, she shyly replied, "Thank you. I must admit, this is an entirely new experience for me."

"Well, keep it up; you look marvelous." Suddenly Blaise leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I want you to know that Draco will be coming down soon. When he shows up, I want you to completely ignore him and continue whatever it is you'll be doing. I don't care if he takes off his pants and moons you – you are not to make him feel the slightest bit of importance once he's in here."

Hermione lifted her eyebrows in bemusement. "May I ask why I'm taking on a mission to fully ignore Malfoy?"

"I've had enough of him antagonizing you in every way possible. It's high time he realize that just because he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, it does not mean that he can do whatever he bloody well feels like."

She smiled warmly at him. "I entirely approve of the motive. However, there is the issue of him being my boss. If he directs a comment or question at me, am I to just stand there and pretend I have selective deafness? I'm afraid he might realize what's going on if that were to happen."

"Don't forget that I am also your boss. If he asks you a legitimate or reasonable question, then I'll repeat it and you'll answer to me. Fair enough?"

"Quite."

"Now let's get on with the shoot."

Blaise left the photo area and walked around to stand next to Norma who was critically examining Hermione's face through the lens. "Okay doll," she called. "I want you to do that first pose again. Be prepared to sit through a couple of flashes, okay?"

Hermione nodded once before freezing completely. As flash after flash went off, she felt a distinct fluttering in her stomach. _What's with the butterflies, 'Mione? Surely you aren't worried about Blaise watching you? _After Norma allowed her to stand normally for two minutes, Hermione frowned and bit her lip in thought. _No, this isn't about Blaise. This is about __**him**__. Malfoy, that's who. God, who knew that someday I'd end up modeling for my worst enemy? I'd seriously rather take Divination again than go through this agony._

"All right, now this time, I want you to hold the perfume in your right hand behind your back, turn so that your back is facing me, and then twist your head as far as you can over your left shoulder so that it looks like you're glancing back!" barked Norma.

Hermione struggled to hold the uncomfortable position through the next few shots, but the real conflict was going on in her head: _What are you really worried about, Hermione? The fact that you're modeling for Malfoy, or the possibility that he won't like what he'll see?_

Color flooded her cheeks again. Of course she didn't give a hoot about what Malfoy thought about her – it was an indelible and irreversible way of life that the two hated each other with a passion. _Yes, yes, that may be so. But it's not like you're __**blind **__now is it? Don't act like you haven't taken note of Malfoy's features at least a couple of times._

But…she hadn't. Not blatantly, anyways. Sure, there had been that one time at the Manor when she'd noted that he had some muscle in his upper body, but apart from that, she hadn't paid attention to much else. _Boring gray eyes, startling blond hair, ridiculously pale skin – not even close to my type._

"Miss Hermione, Willy's going to place a cushioned stool next to you. I want you to point your right foot and then place it lightly on top of the stool. Make sure you're facing your left. Then, after bending your knee, hunch over your thigh so that your back is curved. Willy," she commanded. "Sweep all her hair over her left shoulder so that it provides a backdrop for her face. Oh, and put the perfume bottle by her foot…right there. Good." She put her head back behind the camera. "Okay miss, stare straight into the camera. One…two…three!"

Hermione almost lost her balance as Norma cried "Three!" because lo and behold, Malfoy had entered the room at that instant. The sudden light momentarily blinded her, but once her eyes began functioning again, she saw him standing there in the doorway, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

As he stood there without moving a single muscle, Hermione felt a sort of chill run down her spine. His eyes seemed to be drinking in every ounce of her – they trailed down the curvature of her spine, over the incline of her leg, around the angles of her arms and neck, and finally stopped on her face. She felt dreadfully self-conscious, and the desire to shield herself with her hands was becoming increasingly strong. All of a sudden, she was just feeling so…_exposed_.

She felt like he had caught her naked.

Blaise tore Malfoy out of his reverie by striding over to him and clapping him on the back. "There you are, mate! What do you think? Does she clean up well?"

Malfoy was still boring holes into her eyes, his intensity causing her to want to dive under the floorboards. Finally, he said, "I've seen far better."

Hermione felt a spark of anger inside, but chose to ignore it. _Remember what Blaise said, remember what Blaise said. _Very deliberately, she focused solely on the handsome Italian and asked, "Well, how do you like it so far?"

Blaise grinned and softly applauded. "Very sexy. I'm certain that you're going to be a big hit."

She curtsied once in response before inquiring, "Let's hear it, Norma. What other poses are there?"

"Oh, you won't be needing those other poses to prove whatever nonsensical point it is you're harboring," Malfoy jeered, his mien returning to its old, bothersome self. "You're going to become the laughing stock of modeling society."

Hermione didn't even blink at this comment and instead asked Norma again, "Go on, what's next?"

"Um, well, now Willy is going to stand there and do a mild wind-blowing charm so that we can give you a somewhat dramatic effect. So what I want you to do is move the stool aside, hold the perfume firmly in your hands, lift your arms up over your head, and tilt your head to the left and back. Try to elongate your neck and torso as much as possible – you want to give the impression that you're a tantalizing siren beckoning her suitors forward."

Hermione complied without hesitation, but mentally winced: this position made her feel like her dress was going to slip off her body. _Damn these strapless outfits! How can anyone behave normally in this sort of getup? _The small breeze in her face felt good, for she was starting to think she'd suffocate in the stuffy little room.

"Was it really necessary to use _her _for this perfume? I can think of so many other delectable choices," Malfoy remarked scornfully as the camera clicked on endlessly, his pale face pinched with malice.

"I chose what I deemed the best option. There's nothing left to say," Blaise answered serenely.

"Merlin knows why I gave you the power of overruling me when it comes to new recruits. The worst I thought you'd be capable of was hiring Eloise Midgen to do a skincare ad…apparently you're capable of much worse."

"I have no intention of hiring Midgen for any ad whatsoever, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped complaining. You have a way of getting on my nerves, and I'd rather not lose my cool in a business setting."

Norma and Willy both pretended to ignore the ongoing argument, but Hermione strained to listen. She wanted to hear as much as possible in order to eventually justify her murder of one Draco Malfoy. _I was provoked, your honor, into committing such an act. You may test me with Veritaserum if you'd like…_

As the final flash died away, Hermione sighed and stretched, the flimsy material of the dress swimming around her ankles. Blaise quickly made his way over to her. "Nice work, Hermione. I have a feeling those pictures are going to turn out great. You want to stay a little longer and check out the results?"

She glanced once at Malfoy who glowered at her before saying, "No, thank you. I actually have somewhere to be."

"That's fine. We'll see you tomorrow morning. In case you're curious, we're going to choose some final photos and send them out to some of our biggest evaluators first, so you'll probably hear a lot of feedback from me tomorrow."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed!" Hermione exclaimed cheerfully as she hurried away to the changing room and donned her familiar slacks and blouse. She had almost left the room before she realized that she hadn't worn her shoes. After a couple of minutes of searching, she found her flats in a box by the dresser._ At least Willy didn't just hurl them onto the floor._

After waving a final farewell to Blaise and completely disregarding Malfoy on her way out, she exited the building and apparated to a place brimming with sweet memories and bitter nostalgia: home.

She took a brass key out of her pocket, placed it in the ancient lock, and entered the old house. She was met by the sight of an aged woman sitting by the window, gazing at the outside world. Hermione slowly padded over many rugs before reaching the woman. She placed her hand softly on the woman's wizened, brittle one, causing the lady to haltingly rotate her head and fix Hermione with a blank stare.

Hermione swallowed hard as she absorbed the emptiness in those once beautiful, lively brown eyes. "Remember me, Mum? It's me, Hermione, your daughter."

...

"I saw that look on your face, mate. Don't even try to deny the fact that she was bloody _hot_ in there."

Draco didn't answer. He was too consumed by the fifteen or so photos spread out over his desk, all of them of…_her. _There she was, staring at him like she was going to do unspeakably sinful things to him. Then in another place she was drawing him in with her eyes alone, almost as if she were begging him to come a little closer. Everything about her in these pictures was intimate, much to his bewilderment.

_So she knows how to fake seduction, big deal. Any woman can do that –all the man has to do is show up with a camera and a gaudy outfit. _

But something kept nagging him. _She saw me gawking at her back there in the studio. Damn, I hope Granger didn't think I was interested or something. Merlin, no! _Oddly enough, he wasn't feeling as disgusted with the thought of him being "interested" in her as he'd thought he'd be. _This is ridiculous. She's the world's biggest prude; I, on the other hand, am the world's biggest Sex God. _

"You know, Drake, your silence is speaking for you. You could just say -"

Something in him burst. Draco grabbed a fistful of pictures and swiveled around furiously. "What? What do you want me to say? What the _bloody hell _do you want me to say?" He flung the shots into the air. "Do you want me to say that she looks stunning in each and every damn photo? Do you want me to say that I feel bad about the way I've treated her so far? Do you want me to say that it was a good thing we hired her? Because I've got to tell you, Blaise, I fucking _don't know _what to say right now!"

The next few moments were noiseless as Blaise knelt and picked up the scattered photographs. He quietly placed them on Draco's desk before saying, "You're not angry with me, mate. You're angry because you have to accept the fact that you were wrong. You know she deserves this job, but you can't find the humility within yourself to admit it."

"Is there a reason why you feel the need to instill life lessons in me every time I talk to you these days? You're my best friend, not my freaking grandfather." _Truth be told, not even my bloody grandfather would be this persistent. At least the old man knew where his limits were. _

Blaise sighed and made his way to the door. "Draco," he muttered. "Just send the pictures to Foxworth as soon as possible. I want him to have a good look at the material by tonight."

Draco refused to make eye contact, choosing simply to bore holes into his desk with his glares. Unfortunately, his focus kept slipping back to the sultry images of Granger.

_Really man, just shove the damn things into an envelope and get it over with._

So without wasting another second, Draco snatched up a large envelope from a tray and crammed five of the shots into it. Then, he whistled once for his owl, Dawn, and placed the cargo in her beak. After sending her off, he rolled up his sleeves, walked out onto his balcony, and rested his arms on the railing.

A gentle breeze began to blow from the east, and the sun was beginning to descend from its throne. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, willing all of the stress and tension to just…disappear from his life. He let his mind wander and unearth all sorts of things, but his visions kept bringing back the same image: a laughing Granger. His eyes flew open – this wasn't right. He had no reason to wallow in her thoughts when he could just be relaxing and enjoying the tranquility.

_Forget her, Draco. Just forget her._

No sooner had he closed his eyes again when he heard his door being thrown wide open. In strode Blaise with a small frown on his face. "Foxworth just owled me back about the pictures. He said to meet him at the fireplace in your office."

Draco groaned and hurried over to his fireplace. The two men stood side by side, gazing into the flickering red fire. The flames soon turned green, and a large, bald head appeared seemingly out of nowhere. A man in his late forties wearing glasses peered around at the spacious office before addressing Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, I have received your photos."

"And…?"

"And I think she's marvelous! Absolutely ravishing!"

Blaise was all smiles. "Excellent, Mr. Foxworth!" he exclaimed. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Who knew the great Hermione Granger could model, eh boys?" Mr. Foxworth boomed.

"Yes, she's certainly surprised us all," Draco muttered a tad bitterly.

Mr. Foxworth began stroking his chin, deep in thought. "You know," he murmured. "Miss Granger will do brilliantly for the campaign, and it will certainly appeal to the male portion of the targeted consumers. However, we need to bring in an element of interest for the females as well. Despite the fact that Miss Granger is lovely, her looks will only cause most women to feel a bit down on themselves."

"But again, her connection to the 'Temptation' perfume will make women think that if they use that particular fragrance, they'll attain the same level of allure as Hermione," Blaise interjected.

_Wow, Blaise. Really. I'm so proud of you. Did you come up with that one all on your own? Because hmmm, oh let's see here, it sounds like EVERY OTHER COMPANY'S TACTICS._

Mr. Foxworth narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Yes, yes, you have a point, Mr. Zabini. Still, I think we should opt for a masculine touch for this whole appeal business. I've discussed it with many of my colleagues, such as Mrs. Clare and Mr. Stone, and they all think that we should bring in a man."

"And how do you suggest we find this man?" Draco asked with raised eyebrows.

"How, my boy? There's no _how _about it! Just find me a man with strong features, a powerful personality…"

"Yeah, someone with just the right amount of sophisticated sexiness and reserve to balance the composition," Blaise added with a nod.

"Someone with undeniable pride in his looks and unbreakable confidence," Mr. Foxworth continued.

"Someone with lust written on his face, and a heart of steel," Blaise finished.

Suddenly, the two men were staring at Draco expectantly. He felt his stomach do about twenty somersaults as he absorbed what had just happened. "You want me," he said in a slightly choked voice. "You want me to model with Granger?"

_Oh, HELL NO._

Mr. Foxworth grinned at him appreciatively. "Hit the nail right on the head, Mr. Malfoy." He turned to Blaise. "Is he always this perceptive?"

Blaise sniggered childishly in response. "No, sometimes he's thicker than a brick wall. I suppose you've caught him at a better time than most, Mr. Foxworth."

The man in the flames chuckled at Draco's expression of utter dismay. "Fear not, Mr. Malfoy. I have a feeling you're going to be a natural in this field. You do, from what I've heard, like to strut around like a painted peacock more often than not."

_Air. I need air. I need to breathe._

Draco laughed weakly, fully aware that Blaise was taunting him with a sadistic smirk on his face. "Mr. Foxworth, I can assure you that there are far better candidates for this job than me. I mean, really, I have no time for extra modeling, and it's not my cup of tea in the first place." In a sudden rush, he exclaimed, "Why not use Blaise? He'd be more than perfect!"

_Take that, scumbag._

Blaise smiled sweetly at him as Mr. Foxworth vehemently shook his head and cried, "Oh no, Mr. Malfoy! Absolutely not! I intend on having you and Miss Granger up there on the billboards together – because I have a feeling you two possess immense chemistry. She will be all warmth, and you will be all coolness. She will be the fire and you will be the ice. She will be the –"

**_FUCK _**_my life. _

"Er, yes, thank you, Mr. Foxworth," Blaise cut in hastily as he noted the rising color in Draco's cheeks. "I'm sure he gets the idea."

Mr. Foxworth nodded enthusiastically. "I'm ever so glad you've agreed to this development, Mr. Malfoy. I guarantee that you're going to get great responses from the public once these ads are released. You'll be drowning in galleons, simply drowning."

"But I never ag-" Draco began to protest.

"Good night, Mr. Malfoy. Good night, Mr. Zabini. I hope to see some phenomenal shots again tomorrow evening!"

And with a burst of green sparks, the stubborn man was gone. With complete disbelief etched all over his face, Draco stiffly turned to Blaise and spat, "Will you fucking explain to me what just went on? Because it sounded to me like I was just forced into modeling with…dear Merlin…GRANGER!"

Blaise rushed forward and placed his hands on the other man's shoulders in an effort to console his distraught friend. "Now, Draco, calm down. Listen to me: this is going to create huge profits for 'Sinful'! You've been voted _Playwitch's_ 'Sexiest Man on Earth,' and you're constantly in the _Daily Prophet _for being recognized as the 'Hottest Bachelor Alive.' I just don't understand mate, where is all this reluctance coming from?"

_I need to punch something – possibly a wall, possibly Blaise's face. _

He jerked out of Blaise's grasp and bellowed, "Why don't you understand that I hate her? Why do you _not _understand that? Look, Blaise," he said as he worked to control his temper. "I put up with her joining this company, but I most definitely will _not_ stoop to collaborating with her."

"It's not always about you!" Blaise exploded. "Blast it all, Draco, sometimes you piss me off so much, I can't figure out whether I want to punch you or the wall!"

_Damn. Great minds __**do **__think alike. _

"You're so self-centered and egotistical," Blaise ranted. His dark eyes were drilling into Draco's gray ones and his hands were actually shaking with the force of his anger. "I've tried and I've tried, Draco, but I cannot deal with this sort of bullshit any longer! Tell me, just what the hell did she ever do to you? And I want a damn clear answer."

"She's antagonized me since the first day we met! She absolutely abhors me, and she probably goes to bed every night praying that the next day's papers will have a headline about my death. She represents everything my family has ever hated and is best mates with two of the most insufferable worms in all of wizarding history. Not to mention, she's got you under some kind of spell!"

Blaise crossed his arms and scoffed, "Oh please. A spell? Don't be stupid."

"You damn well know what I'm talking about," Draco seethed as he thought of Granger draping herself over Blaise on multiple occasions. "Ever since she's popped back into our lives, you've acted like her bloody guardian angel. It's always Granger this, Granger that. Well, you know what? I'm sick of it! I can't stand the sight of you allowing that…creature to overwhelm you at every encounter. What on earth's happened to your Slytherin roots? I don't even feel like I can trust you anymore."

"You know what I think, mate?" Blaise remarked scathingly. "You're just plain, old jealous. That's right. You're being eaten up by the green-eyed monster. The difficult thing to understand is who you're jealous of – me, or Granger."

"I don't have a single reason to be jealous of either one of you, and you're highly aware of that," Draco retorted.

"The way I see it, you're either jealous of Granger because she's stealing away your 'best friend', or you're jealous of _me_ because I'm stealing away Granger."

"Is this what you do in your free time? Come up with pathetic excuses for my behavior? I must say, it's a terrible way to pass time."

"Your words reek of bitterness, Draco. You realize that what I'm saying is true, you just can't find it in yourself to accept it."

Draco couldn't believe his ears. _I'm going to spontaneously combust, I swear it. And if I do, I'm taking him down with me. _"So according to you, I'm madly in love with Granger or deeply attached to you? Bloody brilliant! It's good to know that now my sexuality is in question!"

"I don't think it's the latter, Drake," Blaise answered with a coldly amused look in his eyes. "Something tells me you're more interested in Granger than in me."

"Okay, okay," Draco said, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Can I just make something clear? Granger and I are not of the same caliber. I'm the king, but she's a peasant. She's _nobody_ to me. Frankly, she could vanish into oblivion and I wouldn't even notice it."

Blaise shook his head with disappointment. "It's sad how you're working so hard to delude yourself. Sooner or later you're going to come to your senses and thank me for my words of wisdom. For now, I'll leave you to your thoughts."

Draco waved his hand dismissively in the air before grabbing his jacket and flooing back to his manor. As he stepped onto his bedroom floor, he heard a small crack to his right and saw Needy shuffling his feet anxiously.

"What?" he barked at the meek little house-elf.

"Needy wanted to check on Master to see if Master is doing well," the creature muttered.

_No, see, I'm not doing well at all. What I really want to do right now is go hire someone who can castrate wizards in the blink of an eye, because I have this **friend** who could use the job..._

"I am perfectly all right. Don't you have any work to do?"

"Yes, Master. Mistress Malfoy has asked Needy to make sure Master is doing well at work. Mistress Malfoy worries that Master is getting into trouble with Miss Granger."

Draco could feel his temper rising again, and his blood began to boil at Needy's words. "Why? Why should I be getting into trouble with Granger? Does everyone on this whole damn planet think _I'm_ the bad guy? Why is it always me getting criticized?"

Needy stepped back once as he twisted his rags in his hands. "Needy does not know, Master," he whispered. "Needy does not understand why Master and Miss Granger do not like each other. Miss Granger is very kind, but Master can be kind, too."

Almost against his will, Draco felt something inside him soften at the house-elf's sincere words. _Imagine that: a house-elf is actually defending me. _"Er, I'm glad you think so," he mumbled awkwardly. _How exactly is one supposed to thank a house-elf? _

Needy practically glowed with happiness at Draco's tenuous attempt at gratitude. "Master does not need to be angry. Master just needs to take rest and have a good night's sleep."

_Merlin, even the house-elf is giving me advice. I really do need to shove off to bed – I've had enough of the day's events as it is._

He rapidly discarded his shirt and trousers before diving into bed wearing only his boxers. _Sweet nothingness, here I come. _He dimly heard Needy say something about a potion, but all he could manage to respond with was a muffled grunt. Soon, his brain began to disengage from reality and participate in its own wonderland:

_He dreamed that he was back in the office, his desk surprisingly uncluttered and his bulletin board neatly organized. There was an unsettling silence in the air, and even his labored breathing seemed to make no disturbance. He abruptly picked up an odd, peculiarly familiar scent: vanilla. He frowned with confusion; where had he smelled vanilla like this before?_

_His feet began to lead him out through the corridor, past Blaise's office and Goldwin's room, and into the completely dark meeting room. The smell of vanilla had gotten stronger with each step he'd taken. When he approached the closest chair to the door by using his hands to guide him, a feminine voice intoned, "So you've come."_

_Draco slowly sat down in his chair and spread out his fingers before him, hoping to catch something out of the ordinary. There was nothing to grasp. "Who are you?"_

_There was a small squeaking noise from the chair at the opposite end of the table. Then, the voice spoke again, "You know exactly who I am, Malfoy. I am not easily forgotten."_

"_If that is the case, then why don't you show yourself in order to better jog my memory?"_

_The woman laughed softly at his request. Draco sensed that she was making her way towards him and frantically searched for his wand in his pockets, but the damn thing wasn't there._

"_It's not there," she chuckled. Draco could feel her presence at his side. "You won't require a wand for what we're going to do." She placed a warm hand on his cheek, causing him to inhale sharply. "My, you're tense," she whispered. "What is there to be tense about?"_

"_Who are you?" Draco asked again, his pulse hammering away in his throat. _

"_No one of consequence," she replied while sliding her hand down his neck. The sensation felt curiously…pleasant. "I am but a mere peasant, my king." Then with another laugh, she was gone._

Draco awoke with a start. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and he was breathing heavily. The skin on his face felt tight. He stumbled into his bathroom and splashed his face with cold water. _Who was that woman? Where do I know her from? _Troubled by his dream, Draco lethargically crept back under the covers. However, he quickly fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep devoid of any eerie incidents or encounters.

The little blue vial on his dresser remained untouched.

...

_**EXTRA TIDBIT: Here is a picture I found of exactly what I want Hermione's dress to look like for her photo shoot (apart from the not-so-ideal chest part - Hermione's is more decent, trust me); just take out the spaces to see it: **_

_**h t t p : / / g u m b o g l a m . f i l e s . w o r d p r e s s . c o m / 2 0 0 9 / 0 7 / s n a p s h o t _ 0 1 3 . j p g ? w = 4 2 0 & h = 4 1 0 - - - - **_**By the way, there is only one space to be taken out after "snapshot", so watch out for that.**

_**So many reviewers, but I want to address these guys this time!**_

**muffinz113 - Yes, things are about to get _very _interesting indeed. **

**waterflower20 - Ah, whew! I was hoping someone would tell me my story was at least partially unique. You won't believe how much agony I was in, trying to figure out something that other people hadn't used yet...**

**Leanora - Thanks for donating the rice! It's good to know that my story helped out! IN CASE ANY OF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN FOOD DONATIONS BASED ON FANFICTION, CONTACT LEANORA.**

**Amourcherie - Yes, it's going to be a long and bumpy ride for Draco and Hermione before things turn out right. But trust me, it's not going to get boring...hopefully!**

**amazingtofu - Haha, I really like my Blaise here. He's Draco's foil, can you tell? I just thought that he has such potential, and J.K. Rowling left him virtually untapped, so I'm gonna go ahead and get the job done!**

**sarahclare - Aw, I hope you didn't get into trouble at school. And thank you for your kind words...my worst fear is that I'll somehow end up copying other great writers on FF and have nothing to call my own. T_T**


	7. Chapter 7

**I might just cry. It's been so long since I last updated. I published this story on 06/08/10, and I have only updated the 7th chapter 11/27/11. You guys have no idea how miserable I felt every time I thought of this story. It hurt that I wasn't able to see it through, and it hurt that I'd abandoned my dedicated, perpetually uplifting readers as well. High school sucks. Let's just leave it at that...and please, forgive and forget. Please forgive me for forsaking this story for so long and focus on this new chapter. I've tried to make it worth your while - so let me know if it's at least halfway decent. Maybe then I won't feel so ashamed of myself anymore if it looks like there's still hope for me here...  
**

**Official Chapter Dedication: Everyone, because anyone who's reading this right now deserves to be recognized. **

**Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?  
**

Hermione awoke the next morning to the irritating staccato sound of tapping. With a pounding head and bleary eyes, she trudged over to her window and sighed as a small owl dropped a letter by her hand and flew off. After she'd visited her mother the night before, all of her energy had come to a standstill and her dreams had been plagued with visions of darkness and death. She'd woken up twice to find her pillow soaked with tears and her clothes damp with sweat. As she rubbed her eyes with one hand, she picked up the envelope and tossed it onto her kitchen table.

_I refuse to read anything until I have something other than blood coursing through my veins. _

Once she had chugged an entire mug of scalding hot coffee, she lifted up the envelope and examined the handwriting. It was elegant and artistic, and the "Granger" part of her name had been written with an impressive flourish. Already sure of the sender's identity, she quickly sliced open the letter and read:

_Dear Hermione,_

_Hello, I hope you're doing well! I just wanted to let you know that some things have changed regarding your shoot. Actually, I don't know why I used the plural form, because there's really only one thing that's going to be different. Before I tell you what it is, I want you to promise not to completely lose your head. _

_Promise? Okay._

_You're going to be modeling with Draco today._

Hermione shrieked, "What?" and the letter unceremoniously flew out of her hands and fluttered to the floor. She stared at the table for a bit, her chest rising and falling like she'd just run a marathon. Then she dove on to the carpet to confirm that her eyes had not failed her.

_You're going to be modeling with Draco today._

Oh, god.

_Yes, I understand that this is probably madness on my part to be bringing about such an undertaking, but I must admit this is more the work of some of my colleagues than my own. The point is that it remains clear that you and Draco would look perfect together for the "Temptation" perfume, mainly because of your polar yet equally intriguing personalities. Of course, it has escaped no one's attention that you two are not on the best of terms, but I'm afraid you're going to have to tolerate the man for as long as necessary when it comes to business purposes. As his best friend, I am very well aware of what a git he can be, and would like to apologize in advance for any problems he might cause later on today. I regret the change of plans at such short notice, but the decision was finalized just last night with our Senior Head of Advertising, Mr. Foxworth. _

_I look forward to seeing you in a bit, and want to wish you the best of luck with today's work. You'll be fine if you just ignore the buffoon._

_Best Wishes,_

_Blaise_

Hermione slumped back in her hard-backed chair and scoffed in disbelief. Really? She was being forced to model with the man who'd rather strangle himself with his own innards than smile at her? Was this punishment for something she'd done wrong in a past life? Who knew, perhaps she'd committed third-degree murder in an old folks' home. Maybe she'd microwaved a hamster. Maybe she'd sold her best friend into slavery in Cambodia. She couldn't think of anything worse that would warrant torture like this.

_Try to think rationally, 'Mione. He's just Malfoy. The same old demon child with the same trashy attitude and the same ego the size of Jupiter. Why do you still let him get to you? For all you know, he could just be a really sweet guy who's only been sheltered his whole life and subsequently brainwashed, resulting in his involuntary hatred towards all things connected to you and your friends…_

She snorted. Yeah, right. If Malfoy was a sweet guy, then she was a transgender pole dancer.

She glanced at her clock which read 8:30. It was almost time to go to work, so without a second look at the discarded letter, Hermione jumped up and ran into her bathroom, hoping that by the grace of _some _divinity, all of England would shut down for the day. Twenty minutes later, she was striding through the gates that opened to her new place of employment, and all that she could think about was how there were so many things she'd meant to tell her closest friends before she died. Too bad she was walking into the steel jaws of death of her own volition.

After hastily greeting the receptionist and signing in on an enchanted metallic board, she made her way up the imposing staircase and came face to face with Blaise who was just finishing signing off on a document.

"Ah, there you are!" he exclaimed as he tapped the document once with his wand, causing it to vanish. "I had hoped that you would show up. Did you have a good night's sleep? I hope my owl didn't wake you too early."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it was fine. And yes, er, I did sleep well, thank you. Do we have anything to get started on right now?"

He raised his eyebrows at her question and said slowly, "Yes, I suppose we do. Come along, I'll show you your office."

"My office? But I'm just a model."

He laughed at her surprise and beckoned for her to walk alongside him as they stepped into a nearby corridor. "Even though you are, as you say, 'just a model,' I intend for you to have all the basic comforts that any respectable member of our company would have. I know it's unorthodox for new employees to be their own masters, but I'd rather not be responsible for your unhappiness, especially considering we're friends."

Hermione smiled at Blaise as they came to a stop in front of a dark door decorated with little silver designs on the sides. "My, but you really do know how to cheer me up."

"It's not something I rehearse, believe it or not," he replied with a grin as he turned the knob and ushered her into a large, polished room complete with leather armchairs and a shining desk in the center of the space. "I find that making pretty girls happy is one of my greatest natural talents…apart from making excellent chocolate mousse and knowing my way around a tango, of course."

Hermione slid into one of the armchairs and beamed contentedly at Blaise. It was amazing how he could say one thing and make it sound so sweet and charming, but Malfoy could say the same exact thing and make it sound as appealing as a dragon's backside. _Not that Malfoy doesn't resemble one in the first place…_

"Thank you so much, Blaise," she said as she ran her fingers along the smooth edge of her desk. "I can't imagine a nicer room or a nicer employer. I'm very glad I decided to actually come to work this morning."

He nodded very seriously before checking his watch and walking over to the door. "I'm glad you're settled in now. You'll be receiving a note from me sooner or later to come down to the studio area and get ready for the shoot, so don't go anywhere for a while."

"Oh, but isn't there someth -"

He chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully as he cut across her words. "Of course, the brilliant Hermione Granger must have something to occupy her brains for all of thirty minutes. Fear not, darling, I've left you a little something in the top right drawer of your desk. I expect you'll have it accomplished by the time I call for you."

She nodded enthusiastically and he left the room, leaving her to hastily tug open the designated drawer and pull out a small parcel with a note on it. Setting the note aside for a moment, she tore open the packaging to find a tank top and a pair of yoga pants in her size. Completely bemused, she turned to the note and read:

_Make sure you have a good handle on yoga. You'll need to be flexible for today's shoot, in more ways than one._

_- B_

Without wasting a second, Hermione snatched up the clothes and dashed out of her office, her heels making it sound like a bull elephant had been let loose. Taking care not to twist her ankle, she careened into the main hallway before running into Blaise's office and throwing the clothes onto the big table in front of her.

"W-what," she panted as she stooped over to catch her breath. "What is the meaning of this?"

Blaise glanced up indifferently as if sweaty women in heels sprinted into his office everyday (_they probably did)_ before going back to his letters and remarking casually, "I thought it was all very easy to understand. You ought to do some yoga so you don't strain your muscles in a few hours."

"But _why_ would I be straining my muscles in the first place?" she hissed while struggling to stand up straight once more.

"Have you forgotten already? You're doing an ad for a perfume called 'Temptation,' Hermione. If that doesn't already make you think of sex and seduction, then I don't know what does."

"But I fail to see what yoga has to do with any of this!" she cried almost hysterically. "Are you telling me that Malfoy and I will be demonstrating how to do proper Kama Sutra or something?"

Blaise leaned back with a thoughtful expression. "Wow, come to think of it, that would be a really interesting advertisement…"

"BLAISE!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, calm down. I'm not some cheap voyeur who gets his thrills out of seeing other people do the horizontal naked dance, and I'm not about to subject you to something like that. I like you, remember?"

"If this is you liking me, could you like me a bit less?" Hermione muttered as a lock of hair fell in front of her eyes.

Blaise rolled his eyes and walked over to Hermione to give her a fatherly pat on the back. "Now, now, don't stress out so much. Yes, I meant it when I said yoga would be beneficial today. The shoot we're conducting is going to require some physical flexibility. And no," he added after Hermione's pointed glare, "That does not mean you will be doing anything that rhymes with 'flex.' Honestly, could you give me a little more credit? It pains me to see my own friends be so suspicious of me."

Hermione shot him another look before retrieving the clothes she'd thrown onto the table and walking out. She bowed her head to adjust her skirt as she walked, and before she knew it, she had collided with something very hard and firm. With a small gasp, she started and tossed her hair back to stare accusingly at the culprit only to find a certain foul-mouthed prick glowering back at her.

"Well, well," Malfoy drawled in a voice that sounded like someone was strangling a warthog. Perhaps other women found it sexy, but to Hermione it just sounded like the man had had one too many cigarettes. "If it isn't the up-and-coming celebrity herself. You're here awfully early, aren't you?"

"I'm here to do my job, Malfoy, shocking as it may seem," Hermione retorted. "Unlike certain bigheaded prats, I like to actually deserve my payment."

He sneered at her. "Right now, the only thing you deserve is an Unforgivable. It's a pity proper decorum dictates that I not decapitate you in public."

"Do you really spend all your time thinking of these insults for me, Malfoy? I must say, I feel somewhat flattered that you shower such attention on me. Still, be careful: some might mistake all that hostility to be latent sexual attraction."

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest (_stop noticing his damn muscles, you perverted woman!)_ and rolled his eyes. "Right. As if that would ever happen. I know it must be hard to find a mirror big enough to take in all of…_that_, but don't you think you could at least try to make an effort to look like you're not some she-beast that's clawed her way out of hell? I must say, looking at you almost makes me feel depressed at times." He'd waved his hand around once to indicate her hair, and now stuck it in his pocket with that dastardly smirk dancing around on his face.

"My condolences," she spat, highly aware that her hair was slowly but surely escaping from her haphazardly styled ponytail. Of course it would have to be in front of the stupid ferret that she morphed into a freaking electron cloud. "The next time I wrestle with my hair, I'll be sure to keep you in mind. Maybe I'll try a Medusa style – it'll be sure to appeal to the snake that you are."

"Touchy, touchy. Anyways, Granger, I just wanted to remind you that I will personally ensure that you never walk on two legs again if something goes wrong today. And Merlin knows what the hell I did in my past life to deserve such torture, but I can assure you that nothing we do in there will ever change the way I feel about you."

_Interesting, he had the same thought process as me._

"And what way is that, Malfoy?" she asked sweetly, her voice taut.

"I hate you," he said simply. "I just hate you."

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode away with that infuriating strut of his. Hermione stood there for a few seconds, breathing hard and feeling her curls migrate outwards from her head. _I-I'm going to lose my mind. I need to talk to Andi. _She stepped back into the corridor where her office was and leaned against the wall with her cell phone glued to her ear. After a few rings, her ever-exuberant friend picked up and shouted out a distracted greeting.

"Hey, Herms!" she yelled over the dull roar surrounding her. "My gosh, I'm still not used to this whole cell phone thing. Every time the bloody thing vibrates, I feel like I'm about to have an or-"

"Andi, I have to model with him today!"Hermione cried out exasperatedly, partly because she was quickly getting pressed for time, and partly because she did _not _want her friend to finish that sentence.

There was a short pause as Andi apologized to someone for stepping on his foot, and then she asked, "Hm, what? Sorry, can't hardly hear you over all this madness. Who are you modeling with?"

"Mal-foy," Hermione enunciated so that the effect would really sink in. "I'm modeling with the devil incarnate, Andi! MALFOY!"

"What the bloody hell are you getting your knickers in a twist for, woman?" Andi demanded as an announcement echoed over the intercom on her side. "The man's twisted, yes, but he's still a demigod, Herms! Just shut up and do what you have to do and try to _enjoy_ it while you're at it."

"You don't understand," she replied miserably. Her shoulders sagged slightly. "Nobody understands. This is practically a blood feud, Andi! Apparently everyone thinks that we're just a pair of misunderstood children, but this has gone far beyond the dealings of childhood. He hates me with every fiber of his being and I admit, I reciprocate the feeling for him. But goddamn it, how am I supposed to accomplish anything with a clear mind in this place if he's going to torment me like the plague?"

There was another pause before Andi shouted, "Hermione, I'm not gonna lie. I literally heard only three words that you said, and those were 'blood,' 'children,' and 'goddamn.' Now unless you're trying to tell me that you've suddenly gotten pregnant, the only advice I have to give to you is keep calm and carry the fuck on."

Hermione blinked disbelievingly at the wall in front of her. "You seriously have nothing else to offer? No moral support? No death threats or promises of instant castration at the slightest notice? Nothing?"

"Girl, we've been through a lot together, but I seriously think you need to step back and grow up a little. Sure, you're gorgeous. Sure, you're the most brilliant witch of our time. But when it comes to handling Malfoy maturely, you have an incredibly long way to go. You've stared down freaking Lord Voldemort, 'Mione! Are you telling me you can't deal with a snot-nosed goober like this kid?"

Feeling both empowered and slightly ashamed, Hermione began to nod and exclaimed, "You're right! I just need to get a grip on myself and come to terms with all of this. It's not like I'm selling my organs in the black market; I just need to do a few poses with a less-than-desirable man."

"See? Now you're talkin'!"

"Okay, then. I suppose I should go. Blaise told me I have to, er, do some yoga to prepare for the shoot."

Andi burst out into laughter. "Seriously? Man, it sounds like you and Malfoy are going to be X-rated tonight!"

"And I thank you for your compassion and understanding," Hermione said with a clenched jaw.

"You'll survive, babe," Andrea said with laughter still bubbling in her throat. "I have complete faith in you. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? Got to run now, my manager's asked me to organize some of these hopefuls into various categories based on attractiveness and such. It's a taxing job, but someone's gotta do it, right?"

"Yeah. Right. All right then, I'll see you later."

"Love you!"Andi said distractedly.

Hermione sighed, snapped her phone shut, and turned to make her way into her new office when she heard the sound of feet thundering down the adjacent hallway. She hurriedly peered out around the corner to see a red-faced Malfoy charge into Blaise's office in a similar fashion as she had, except he left behind a series of highly potent curse words mingling and reverberating through the air. The door slammed amidst a hodgepodge of "fucking-sonofa-bast-arseho-motherfu-" As he dashed in, Hermione caught a glimpse of a parcel identical to the one she had received earlier in his hand. A note fluttered to the ground in his wake, and Hermione scurried forward to pick it up after checking to make sure the coast was clear.

A malicious, throaty laugh escaped from her mouth as she straightened up and pocketed the note. It was _such _a blessing to have Blaise on her side…

_Not that I really mind you pulling a muscle or two (it would teach you a much-needed lesson), but you should probably do some yoga to prepare for later with Hermione (yes, that's right you wanker, learn to accept that I use her first name). I know it won't bother you to wear tight, feminine clothing because I remember that secret penchant you had for cross-dressing back in your early childhood years. And stop glaring at the blasted paper, Draco. The poor thing didn't do anything to you._

_B_

_..._

Draco had once read a Muggle story in the Hogwarts library about a wolf that continually pestered these three chubby little pigs. Every time the wolf came knocking on the pigs' doors, the pigs would resist, so the wolf would simply step back, take a huge, deep breath, and exhale so hard that he would blow the house down.

Right now, he was the wolf. And the three pigs he'd decided to annihilate were Willy, Blaise, and Granger, in that order. He was ready to huff and puff their damn heads off, and he'd decided to save the best and the bitchiest for last.

"P-please, Mr. Malfoy," Willy whimpered as he stood trembling in front of Draco. "I just need to work with you for ten minutes."

They were both inside another studio located in one of the far recesses of the building. One of the walls was covered with tall mirrors, and the room had a distinct smell of jasmine and sweat and crushed souls. Or maybe Draco was just imagining the crushed souls part. Draco looked over Willy's head to glare balefully at his reflection – what the hell had possessed him to even go along with any of this? He was standing there in parachute-like pants, a shirt that read "Easygoing," and a pair of ridiculously cheap sandals. The air was filled with trance music punctuated with Indian chants and a tinkling of bells, and he was pretty damn sure that Blaise had even coerced Willy into lighting a stick of incense somewhere in the room, hence the strong, flowery scent.

What made it all so much worse was that Willy was dressed the same way. At least Draco's genes enabled him to look good in anything – Willy, on the other hand, looked like his plump stomach would pop right through the strained fabric of his shirt, and let's not even begin to talk about his pallid, flabby legs.

_Why the fuck did I hire him again? Oh that's right. I didn't. Tell me something, Draco: why is Blaise singlehandedly the greatest cause of your misery? _

"If you think," Draco hissed, "that I'm going to sit here and contort myself into a human pretzel or something, you're going to find yourself gravely mistaken."

Willy paled to a color about four shades lighter than normal and involuntarily leaned back as if to dodge Draco's talons. "N-no one's asking you to do that, sir. All we have to d-do is a f-few basic exercises."

"This is entirely unnecessary," Draco spat. "Blaise is making a fool of both of us."

"I-I don't think so, sir. M-Mr. Zabini seemed genuinely c-concerned for your s-safety…"

"Concerned for my safety, my arse. This is all just a way for him to have a right jolly laugh, the bloody git."

Willy swallowed once before covertly trying to wipe the beads of sweat off his brow. "If you don't mind, s-sir…could we b-begin?"

"Get on with it. And know that I will have my wand trained on you at all times." To emphasize his point, Draco drew out his wand from behind him and pointed it right between Willy's small eyes.

"Y-yes!" squeaked the coward as he threw his hands above his head and raised himself up on the balls of his feet. "All right, so f-first we need to stretch the s-spine…"

With a great sigh of annoyance, Draco stowed away his wand and lethargically followed the idiotic man's instructions. As he heard various parts of his body crack and pop from time to time, he found himself gritting his teeth incessantly. After nearly ten minutes of useless twisting and bending, Willy came to a pause.

"S-Sir," he said, his face splotched with red and sweat forming once again on his temples. "Mr. Zabini asked m-me to have you do j-just one more thing."

Draco silently stared as Willy dropped to the floor on his back and, with great difficulty, raised his legs up in the air so that he was practically vertical. "A-as you c-can see," Willy wheezed as he struggled to position his arms correctly on the floor beside him. "This is p-purely a q-question of balance!"

Trying to ignore the other man's jiggling girth, Draco asked incredulously, "Does Zabini really think I'm going to do that?"

"Mr. Zabini a-asked me to i-insist, Mr. Malfoy," Willy grunted. The effort to defy gravity was certainly taking a hefty toll on him. He sounded more constipated than anything else.

_I won't do it. I refuse. I refuse to let my hair touch this filthy floor, and I absolutely refuse to reduce myself to this prat's level._

"P-please!" Willy cried. It was hard to tell if the drops plummeting from his face were his tears or sweat. "This is the l-last one, sir! P-please get it over with!" _Pitiful. _

"Fucking waste of my time," Draco muttered as he performed a quick cleansing charm on his area before lying on his back. "I'm warning you," he called over as he placed his arms by his sides. "If I end up breaking my neck, hell won't even be the tip of the iceberg for what you'll have to pay."

"U-understood!"

Inhaling deeply, Draco planted his shoulder blades against the floor and gazed up at the ceiling. _If that fat pig can do it, this'll be a piece of cake for me._ Just as he prepared to lift his legs, the room's door flew open and there stood Granger in the same dratted pants he had on and a tank top. Eager to show that he didn't care an ounce for her presence, Draco swung his legs up in one fluid motion until his feet were perfectly pointed.

Too bad his pants decided to come _down _in one fluid motion.

The rush of air that suddenly attacked his legs caused the fine hairs on his body to stand on end, but what really caused Draco to lose his mind was the fact that the _whole damn fabric _of his pants was gathered in a bunch at the apex of his thighs, meaning that everything from his feet to his inner thighs was exposed. _Every. Damn. Thing._

"M-Malfoy," Granger choked, her voice strained with poorly concealed amusement and a contradictory desire to appear indifferent. "Blaise says it's time to…er…start." Draco could see her eyes traveling down his legs, and she actually had to put a hand over her mouth when they reached his boxers.

_Of all days to wear the ones with the fucking Pygmy Puffs…_

"I'll head down there, then," she said finally after enough awkward seconds had passed consisting of her attempting to be mature. She waited a beat to see if he would respond, but the only sound she received in return was Willy gasping for breath like a dying fish. With what sounded suspiciously like quiet cackle, she left. Draco was sure he'd seen her shoulders shaking as she'd turned.

The instant the door closed, Draco dropped his lower body to the ground and scrambled to his feet, only to pounce on the wretched pawn of that loathsome "friend" of his. He shoved Willy's legs down and grabbed the man by his shirt.

"You will not breathe a word of that to anyone," he hissed, his nose inches from Willy's face. "Is that clear?"

Willy looked like he was going to drown the whole goddamn country with his bodily fluids. "Y-y-yes," he whimpered, his arms now dangling like worms.

Draco pushed him back and brandished his wand to reinforce his threat before stomping out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

"Of all the fucking dickheads in the world to be best friends with, I had to choose the goddamn king!" he seethed. "And bloody Granger saw me…"

_Oh, shit. Granger. Ah, I'm not worried. She's smart enough to know I'll kill her if word of this gets out. Hopefully._

He was soon met by one of the photographer's new assistants whose name tag read "Philip Moon." The rail-thin man wore a simple diamond stud in one ear, and a purple vest sparkled over an outfit consisting of tight pleather pants and and a shimmery black mesh shirt. Pinkish lips curled up in a saucy smile and Draco noted subtle sparkles on the man's eyelids and eyelashes. Moon was blatantly gay and maddeningly chipper.

_This day just keeps better and better, doesn't it? We might as well slit our own throats right here right now._

"Come, come, Mr. Malfoy," Moon called in a twangy voice. As he waved his hand around, Draco caught flashes of orange and green nails. "I've been looking for you. It is time for your shoot!"

Draco grunted and walked alongside the flamboyant man who was currently chattering at a thousand miles per hour.

"Oh, isn't this just delightful! My very first assignment and I get to help out one of the hottest men in the world do his thing! Oh, I could just _die _from joy! Do you like taking photos, Mr. Malfoy? I'd imagine you do, hm, with that exquisite face of yours. But oh, what on earth are you wearing, my dear sir? The person who dressed you in that get-up ought to be hanged and quartered, I say. My, but aren't you so handsome in real life!"

Draco slowly edged away and remarked with a raised eyebrow, "You're certainly very chatty."

Moon laughed and Draco was disturbed to find it almost perfectly feminine. "Oh, darling, it's in my blood. I simply can't let another human being get on with their life until I've talked them to death, and then some. And of _course_ I couldn't pass by a perfect specimen such as yourself, so I'm afraid you'll have to take my mouth for what it is, hm?"

Draco felt his stomach clench with unease when the other man winked at him. _Great. Just what I need. Flirting with another man. That's the ticket, eh, old boy?_

"We're here!" Moon trilled as the two entered the studio. Moon was immediately whisked away by a now somewhat decently dressed Willy, while Blaise took it upon himself to walk over to Draco.

"Save your breath," Draco snarled as Blaise smiled and opened his mouth to say something. "I'll deal with you later."

Blaise smirked and shrugged. "All I wanted to tell you was that your dressing room is over there. Moon will sort you out. In case you're curious, Hermione's already changing, so no need to wait up for her."

"Oh good, because I was so worried."

"Shut up and go do your job, Draco. You have twenty minutes."

Blaise strolled off and Draco spun around to stalk angrily into his dressing room where Moon was already laying out the required clothing. Draco threw himself into an armchair and watched the sparkly beanpole carefully place a pair of silky black pants on the table and a single black tie.

After a few moments, Draco asked gruffly, "Where's the rest of it?"

Moon clapped his hands together with glee. "This _is _the whole ensemble, darling!"

_I am NOT a fucking "darling!"_

"You're shitting me."

"Oh no, sir, I'm not," Moon said very seriously as he dug around in a large bag. He rapidly pulled out two bottles of oil and a vial of the "Temptation" perfume (which Draco was itching to smash over someone's head). "It's all supposed to be very sexy, very _hot_. Trust me, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini knows what he's doing."

_Patience, Draco, patience. _"And what the hell is the oil for?"

Moon grinned. "Why, to smear all over that sculpted torso of yours, of course! Remember what I said about sexy?"

_I am going to smear your face all over the walls if you don't stop smiling at me. _"Fine. Get out so I can change."

"Oh, but –"

"You'll get your chance to doll me up once I'm through changing," Draco said sharply. "For now, I'd like some privacy."

"But Mr. Zab-"

"_Leave."_

With another girly laugh, Moon danced out, leaving Draco to peel off his damned yoga clothes and tug on the silk pants. He tossed the tie around his neck before saying, "Come in."

Moon skipped in and examined Draco. "Perfect, darling!" he cried in approval. "That's exactly how he wants the tie. Oh, and you'll be barefoot, so don't bother with shoes. Now then, you've got to rub the oil over yourself…"

Draco gave Moon a pointed look, and the other man's face fell for a half-second before he waltzed out again, this time whistling an upbeat tune. With a sigh, Draco reached for one of the bottles of oil lying on the dresser and snapped open the lid. He began to industriously rub the sticky stuff all over his chest, stomach, arms, and even managed to do his back. _No way am I letting Moon massage me with this shit. _Once he was sure he looked enough like a cheap pornstar (_because really, isn't that what we all aspire to be?)_, he opened his door to allow Moon back in.

"Okay, last thing!" Moon exclaimed as he grabbed his wand.

Draco instinctively felt for his own wand beside him. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, calm down, Mr. Malfoy. I'm not going to hex you. I just need to style your hair a wee bit."

"My hair is fine the way it is." _Like I'd let you touch it. _

"Even so, we just need to kind of give it a more 'bedheadish' look."

Moon muttered something under his breath and Draco watched his hair ruffle itself a bit so that the locks fell around his face in a bit of a disarray.

Moon stepped back to see his handiwork. "Perfect," 'he said smugly.

"Moon! It's time!" Norma yelled from outside.

Without a word, Draco pocketed his wand and strode out of the dressing room into the studio where stood the same backdrop Granger had used for her individual shots the first day.

Blaise gave Draco the once-over and grinned. "Well, don't you look tasty," causing Draco to direct his middle finger in the snickering Italian's direction.

"Ah, Hermione!" Blaise called, looking over Draco's shoulder. "My god, you look…delectable."

Draco slowly rotated on the spot to sneer at the creature he'd be posing with and nearly let his jaw drop in surprise.

There she stood, clad in nothing more than a flimsy black chemise edged with lace and pair of very short black shorts. Her hair was also mussed, but for once, it actually suited her face. Stray curls bounced grazed her slightly flushed cheeks and her brown eyes were darkly lined and smudged at the edges. Draco felt his eyes move at a snail's pace, from her cupid's bow lips to her arched neck, down her visible soft curves, and along her lightly tanned and toned legs. A silver anklet encircled her slender ankle, and Draco found himself wondering how far his fingers would overlap were he to wrap his hand around that ankle…

"Thank you," she mumbled shyly. Draco noticed she was turning redder and redder by the second. Maybe it had to do with his being half-naked. _*smirk*_ "Are we ready now?"

Blaise nodded, his gaze still fixed on Hermione. "Yes, definitely. Draco, come on."

Draco wordlessly padded over to the carpeted area and waited for someone to bark out instructions so that he could get this over with as fast as possible. Granger silently stood next to him and resiliently kept her eyes trained on Norma who was fiddling with her camera knobs.

"Wait!" Moon cried as he dashed in. "You almost forgot the main piece itself!" He handed the perfume to Draco with a smile and whispered to Hermione, "You look heavenly, darling. I might even go straight for you."

As he walked back to stand next to Willy and Blaise, Norma peered over her viewfinder at her two subjects and cleared her throat. "Ahem. So. This shoot is of a seductive and passionate nature. I don't want to force you both to take more time than is needed, so cooperate to your best ability please."

Granger gave the woman a tight smile and quickly nodded once.

"Since it'll be too hard to just verbally dictate everything, I'm going to show you pictures of how I want you to position yourselves. I'll then handle the minor details. Let's begin." Norma used her wand to project in front of her an image of a faceless man and woman locked in what appeared to be a passionate embrace. She nodded at the two people staring wide-eyed back at her to indicate they should begin.

Granger turned towards Draco and said haltingly, "Erm, I suppose this is it." Her cheeks were burning fiercely.

Draco shot Blaise a single look of pure venom before facing the apprehensive witch. With a sigh of frustration, he reached out, grabbed her by the waist, and jerked her forward so that she had to flatten her hands against his chest to steady herself.

She gasped and glared up at him. "Did you really have to do that?"

He made to smirk down at her and found himself staring into big, anxious brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to swallow him whole. Something began to flit around in his stomach, but the thing was, the feeling wasn't all that uncomfortable.

Norma said, "Okay, that's great! Hold it! Don't look away from each other!"

_Easy for you to say, woman._

Draco forced himself to keep up the staring contest with Granger. He felt her hands slipping millimeter by millimeter down his chest and mentally cursed Blaise yet again for wanting to use the stupid oil. He could feel how tense Granger was in his arms, and between the camera flashes, he mumbled, "Damn it, Granger. Try to loosen up a little. It feels like I'm holding a dead giantess."

She scowled at him but allowed herself to relax a bit. Her shoulders curved down a little and Draco felt her fingers inch back up to rest higher up on his chest. The sensation caused him to involuntarily clench his jaw, but he could swear he saw her doing the same thing.

"Okay," Norma called as she projected another image. "Next one."

Draco watched as a picture appeared of the man and woman engaged in some kind of dance move where the woman had to literally lift her leg up to the side as high as possible while the man supported her from behind.

Granger made an odd noise before saying in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Blaise, really. I can't do that! There's no way!"

Blaise gave her a grim smile. "Told you there was a reason for the yoga. Good luck."

Granger helplessly turned back to Draco, her face clouded with worry and embarrassment. He rolled his eyes at her and muttered, "Let's just get the damn thing over with, Granger."

Heaving a great sigh, Granger stepped directly in front of Draco and placed her left hand in his left hand. "You're going to have to help me hold my other leg up," she said quietly as she gently steadied her back against his chest. With an almost inaudible sigh, she lifted her right leg up and extended it as far as she could. Draco immediately grabbed her calf and pushed it up even further until her foot was practically right next to his ear. She then had to balance herself on the ball of her left foot so that she could tilt her head back slightly on top of Draco's right shoulder.

"Merlin's pants," she whispered. "This bloody hurts."

"You're doing brilliantly, Hermione," Blaise called, his voice tinged with amazement. "Just give Norma a minute to take all the shots she needs."

Draco could feel her swaying slightly and tightened his grip on her hand. Her hair tickled him where it draped over his skin, and he was becoming all too familiar with the hips which were now pressed up against him. "Don't say anything," he whispered back. "Just focus on not falling."

"I need you to burn the camera with your eyes, Mr. Malfoy!" Norma urged from behind her camera. "You need to exude passion and torment. The woman of your dreams is right there with you. I need you to channel that feeling of lust and possessiveness."

Draco exhaled loudly and complied. He was surprised to find Granger giggling a second later. "Why are you laughing?" he whispered.

"Sorry," she replied quietly, her tone something other than pissed for a change. "You blew into my ear and it tickled a bit."

He didn't say anything to this, just continued to stare adamantly into the lens ahead of him. _This changes nothing, Draco. Just because her lady parts are within an inch of your man parts, it doesn't mean anything. This is pure business, and you hate it. Remember? You hate it._

"All right, last one," Norma announced.

This time, the two were met with an image of the man sitting down in a chair with his back to the camera while the woman sat on his lap facing forward.

Draco hissed, "I am going to kill Blaise." _Slowly and painfully. Oh, it will be glorious to see him burn. Simply glorious. _

Granger refused to meet his eyes until he'd thrown himself onto a chair Willy had dragged on, but the real moment of truth came when she had to actually sit down on his lap. She bit her lips and miserably studied the floating image where the woman's legs were spread open and bent at the knees over the man. Granger closed her eyes for a brief second as if pleading for mercy from some divinity before swinging herself over Draco's lap and gingerly resting her body on his.

Draco tightened his fists at the sudden warmth that now spread over his upper thighs and willed himself to think of anything but the present situation. _Avocados. Thestrals. Pancakes. Curtains._

"Miss Granger, could you please turn your head so that your lips are next to Mr. Malfoy's ears? And smile a little so that the photo has a playful element."

Granger did as she was told and Draco soon felt her hot breath repeatedly enveloping his ear. He'd tightened his fists so much, his knuckles looked like they would tear through his skin all at once.

_You hate her, you hate her, you hate her, you hate her… Damn these rampant hormones!_

After what felt like a thousand shutter clicks, Norma packed up her equipment with a flick of her wand and smiled. "Thank you both, thank you. I think we really got some winning ones today."

In the blink of an eye, Granger had leapt off of Draco and was busy tugging her chemise down as far as it would go. Draco also got to his feet; the warmth still lingered on his legs.

Blaise lightly applauded from where he'd been sitting and then stood up and stretched contentedly. "That went remarkably smoothly. Not to point out the obvious or anything, but you two were extraordinary together." He addressed Draco, "I really think we got the shots Foxworth was talking about, mate."

Draco grunted once more before turning his back on Blaise and sauntering off without a second glance at either Granger or his friend. Blaise watched him go and make an impatient "tsk tsk" noise, but if only he'd known the mantra Draco was repeating over and over again in his head:

_You hate her, you hate her, you hate her, you hate her…._

_..._

Later that night, Hermione attacked her dishes with an uncommon ferocity, scrubbing so hard it seemed the sponge itself would be torn to shreds.

_It was just a photo shoot, 'Mione. Nothing else. So what if you were forced to press your body against his? It's all in the name of business. Why don't you just grow a pair?_

She sighed, set down the plate she'd been attacking mercilessly, and clutched the edge of the counter with both hands. Who could blame her for being so flustered? It had been so long since she'd last come into such close contact with a man…

_Pathetic. _The word rang true through her mind. It really was pathetic. Here she was, sighing and squirming like a punch-drunk nymphomaniac out of a bad romance. _Pathetic._

She dried her hands on a towel and wearily walked over to her living room to watch some television when she heard someone knock on her door. _At this hour? _She hurried over and opened the door to reveal one tall, imposing Malfoy with a side order of bitterness and scorn. She nearly slammed the door in his face too, but he stepped in without an invitation and began to eye his surroundings with clear distaste.

"Funny, I didn't expect you to live in such a hovel, Granger."

She let the door swing back on its own accord and crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

He raised an eyebrow at her in that stupid, haughty way of his. "Be polite, Granger. Most hostesses typically offer their guests refreshments."

"You are not a guest," she retorted with gritted teeth. "And the only refreshment I'd like to offer you is the Draught of Living Death. So please, if you're done being an arse as usual, could you kindly tell me what you're here for?"

"You left your bloody wand at the studio," he said scathingly. Sure enough, he pulled out her wand from his back pocket and thrust it towards her. "Who the hell leaves a wand behind like that?"

Her innards suddenly doing the rumba, Hermione dashed forward and quickly grabbed the wand from his hand. "It was an accident. I can assure you it's not a habit." _My god, I hadn't even realized it was lost._

He stood there, waiting for her to say something else. She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Did you need something?"

"Most people say something to indicate gratitude when someone does something nice for them."

"And I'm so glad your Pureblood parents made you swallow a manners book when you were younger."

"Say it, Granger. I'd love to hear those words."

"Get out of my house, Malfoy."

He made a buzzing sound. "No, no, that's not the right sentence. Come on now, you know what it is."

"Get. Out."

"Such a pity you Gryffindors never let up that damn pride of yours," he drawled as he began walking towards her. "So many fights could have been averted."

"Big words coming from a true Slytherin whose ego is so big, it could eclipse the sun."

He was only a foot away from her when he stopped walking. "Just say it, Granger. Two little words that'll make my day. I did you two favors today, didn't I? First I let you get your thrills from my body, and then I brought your wand to you. That warrants a little gratitude, don't you think?"

_Two words? Fuck you._

Hermione raised her wand and touched it lightly to his chest. "Don't come any closer, ferret."

He sneered at her and made to grab the wand out of her hand when suddenly, he froze. His eyes began to bulge slightly and his mouth fell open as if he'd been stunned. For a moment, he wavered on the spot, his legs tensed like he was about to run a race.

And then he collapsed right on top of her, causing her to topple backwards and hit her head against the foot of the coffee table. She struggled to throw him off of her, but it proved to be difficult to toss off that much weight all at once. She painstakingly scooted out from underneath him and then rolled him over so that she could see his face. His eyes were tightly closed and his chest wasn't rising and falling like a normal person's would. She lightly slapped his face, but there was no reaction. She called his name a few times but that didn't help either.

_Okay, breathe, Hermione, breathe. You're not going to panic. _

That's right. She was calm and composed. She wasn't panicking.

She pressed her ear against his chest, but it was hard to tell if his heartbeat would be discernable through all the layers, so she took her pointer and middle fingers and pressed them to the pulse point at his throat.

It was then that she began to panic…

…because Malfoy had no pulse.

...

**To all of my unregistered reviewers: Thank you SO much for all the kind things you've said. Kitty, ee, crystalline, Sparrow (adored your review, my friend!), dmgh4ev, and all my old veterans:; thank you, thank you, thank you. **

**le temps: I really hope I did your hopes some justice...**

**waterflower20: Here it is, the part where they have to model together! I'm not very good with writing sensual stuff (I can imagine it, sure, but writing it out without sounding like some deadbeat out of an erotica novel is actually really really hard unless it comes naturally. Which it doesn't for me, haha.) Let me know if it met your expectations!**

**Gemsibob: That is an amazing compliment. I am REALLY glad you feel converted. Trust me, as much as people like to rag on Dramione for being stupid and completely pointless and out of touch with the books, there is always that element of "love between enemies" that turns out to be irresistible. All that impassioned anger and frustration...mmmmm, mwahaha. And of course, Draco is MEANT to be angry and sexy and just a total beast. That's HIM. ;)**

**sarahclare: Hahaha, breast augmentation! *snickers***

**x. enchanted. x. : I just love you, you know that?**

**Serpent of Slytherin:; I'm back! Come and leave me a review in Arabic, yeah? **

**MUCH LOVE TO YOU ALL, AND ALL MY OTHER REVIEWERS WHO I DIDN'T SPECIFY (don't worry, I don't love you any less, I just feel my fingers cramping up, that's all)! **

**Review, message me, whatever. Just show me you still care...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Note from Me: You have every right to despise me, readers. You must have thought I'd forgotten about this story. God, it's been so long since I updated. I am soooooo sorry... Words cannot express the frustration I've dealt with regarding my fanfics, especially when I so dearly love to write. My love to all of you who care enough to continue reading. I certainly do not deserve your understanding. :'(**

**CHAPTER DEDICATION: To anyone who's ever reviewed me. You guys are the best support we writers have. *hug***

**If Walls Could Talk**

_Breathe, Hermione. Just clear your mind and breathe._

Hermione shakily exhaled as she leaned back and tried to gauge the situation. Malfoy's pale skin glistened like alabaster thanks to the layer of sweat that now covered him, and his limbs remained in their stiff positions. He was as still as a corpse, and Hermione briefly had the rather bizarre notion that he looked like an angel who had been tossed onto the earth. She stared at him for another moment with anxiety clawing at her throat, hoping that this was all just a very bad dream, and praying that someone would rouse her from this nightmare.

But hopes and prayers can only do so much.

_Okay, calm down. Think. Think, goddammit! You're going to be a Healer!_

Hermione clenched her jaw and quickly thought back to the seminar she had attended three months before to learn proper emergency tactics. As her mind's eye began to roll through her memories like an old movie camera, the familiar face of her ever-stoic instructor popped up, and suddenly, the words of his lecture seemed to flood her ears:

"_...as you can see, the subject is clearly unconscious and immobile. In such cases where there is no evident cause of collapse, your first and foremost duty is to rid the subject of anything that might hinder proper respiration..."_

Without further ado, Hermione leapt forward and furiously began unbuttoning Malfoy's shirt, refusing to spend a single extra second on the fact that she was essentially stripping her sworn enemy in her own apartment. Within seconds, a finely tailored dress shirt and a forest green silk tie lay strewn across her carpet, and a half-naked ferret lay before her slightly quivering hands.

"_Once all constraints have been removed, it is crucial to perform a spell that will clear the airway of any obstructions and allow the subject to resume breathing on his own. If the first two attempts do not restart the subject's breathing, then the Muggle method of CPR must be used as a last individual resort before the aid of an expert is required..."_

Hermione snatched up her wand from the floor and steadied her hand as she cried, "Anapneo!" With her heart threatening to ram through her teeth, she waited for the slightest movement in Malfoy's chest to indicate he was breathing. When it became clear that there had been no effect, she grasped the wand firmly in both hands, squeezed her eyes shut, and shouted, "Anapneo!" once more, concentrating intensely on the spell as to maximize its power. A small _whoosh_ of air rushed out as Malfoy's lips parted, and his body undulated once like a wave before his chest began rising and falling normally. With a sigh of relief, Hermione sank against her table and wedged her face between her knees, willing her mind to slow down and relax once more.

_Why? Why was I so anxious? It was like I'd never even held a wand before... How could I allow myself to be so nervous? I've performed that spell countless times..._

"G-Granger?"

Hermione started at the sudden voice and looked up to see Malfoy haltingly raise himself to a seated position. He was still covered by a sheen of sweat, and she could see him instinctively clench his hands into fists to try to stop the periodic tremors that had begun to ripple through his muscles. She darted towards him, offering a hand to help him stand up.

"Listen, Malfoy, we have to get you to St. Mungo's immed-"

"No!" he exclaimed forcefully as he tightly grabbed her hand. "I can't! My m-mother must not hear of this!"

Torn with indecision, Hermione considered breaking free of his grip and calling in someone like Ron or Harry to help take Malfoy to St. Mungo's, but the degree of vehemence in those steely eyes led her to rethink her options. She was also becoming increasingly aware of the heat emanating from his body as he began to shake more and more violently.

"Malfoy," she began gently. "You can't just stay here in this state, and I-"

His trembling hands maintained a solid hold on her as he sharply interjected, "No, Granger! You can't take me there!"

Her voice rose in protest. "But I can't just let you lie here on my apartment floor like this! Merlin, Malfoy, I don't even know what's wrong with you and I'm not qualified to deal with a medical emergency!"

"To hell...with qualifications," he gasped as his breathing grew labored. "Just...do something about it!"

Hermione ripped her hand out from between his and began ransacking her cabinets, searching madly for the stash of potions she reserved only for crises. After a minute of panicked rummaging, she dashed back to Malfoy with her fingers curled around a small bottle of lavender liquid. She wordlessly grabbed his chin, tilted his head back, and poured the contents of the bottle down his throat before reaching for his pulse point once more. The results of the potion were tangible as Hermione felt Malfoy's pulse slow significantly, and she hurriedly braced herself to lift him from the floor and onto her couch.

"Careful, Granger," Malfoy grumbled weakly as she gracelessly heaved him onto the cushions. "You're dealing with an incapacitated patient here, not rolling in the sack with Weasley."

Hermione's response was what she deemed a _feminine snort of derision_, and she caught a flash of a smirk while turning to bring a bowl of warm water and a small towel. Clearly the dingbat's constitution was no longer in dire peril. Upon her return, Malfoy raised his eyebrows and gestured towards the potion vessel now lying on the rug.

"Incidentally, what was that gunk you just shoved down my throat?" he asked curiously. "It wasn't very appetizing, to say the least."

Hermione submerged the towel in the bowl before wringing out the excess water and regarding him with a grim expression. "Well, it was meant to stabilize your heart and diminish your feverish conditions, but I suppose the fact that your testicles are now a third of their original size..."

"WHAT?"

_Suck on that, you little louse._

Hermione struggled to contain her laughter as Malfoy attacked his belt with an animalistic urgency. Then she realized, to her horror, that he would probably expose his nether regions just to ensure everything was intact and in the right form. With a strangled sound, she latched onto his forearm and stopped his frantic quest.

"Wait! Erm, that was just a joke, Malfoy," she said quickly as he froze mid-search. "Er...nothing's going to happen to your testicles. I was just joking. Really."

His eyes narrowed as he slowly drew back and allowed his head to rest on a pillow. "You'll pay for that one, Granger. Cruelty has its limits, especially when defenseless demi-gods are made to be the victims."

Hermione nearly choked on her own spit at his words. "Excuse me? You, a defenseless demi-god? A senile Satan, yes. A lunatic Lucifer, sure. A deranged demon-child, no doubt. But a demi-god? Spare me, ferret."

"I am so curious, Granger, about these little quips of yours," he remarked sarcastically. "Do you really have nothing better to do with your life than come up with insults for me?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

As Malfoy opened his mouth again to protest, Hermione swiftly launched the towel at his face and effectively cut off what was sure to be a stream of insufferably arrogant comments. On a merciless whim, she took the towel and roughly started wiping his cheeks until a small groan from him caused her to relent.

Sighing, she dipped the towel in the water again and began to softly clean his forehead, noticing that his eyes had fluttered shut. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" she muttered quietly.

One side of Malfoy's mouth quirked up into that bothersome smirk. "Oh come now, Granger," he answered loftily. "It's not every day the average female gets to have the world-famous Malfoy physique all to herself."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, "Is it world-famous because of its anemic appearance? I suppose the general public sees you as quite the medical miracle."

"Ha!" he scoffed as Hermione finished wiping off his face and immersed the towel in the cooling water. "I'll have you know that I was recently voted 'Best Body' by 'Wizards' Quarterly' _and _I've won 'Sexiest Bachelor of Britain' for the past three years without fail. Now you tell me whether or not I won those because I look like a terminally ill blighter."

Hermione shrugged and touched the towel to his neck. Suddenly, his throat visibly constricted and his hands morphed into tight fists once more. "Malfoy?" she asked, alarmed. "Is something wrong?"

His eyes had flown open at her touch, but they gradually closed again, and he mumbled, "Yeah, no, I'm fine. I just...felt something. I'm fine."

"Well, if you're sure..."

"Yeah."

When Hermione still sat there, unconvinced, Malfoy opened one eye at her and said, "Honestly, Granger, stop acting like a freaking mother and just finish wiping me down. I'm fine, all right? You don't have to look like someone killed your bloody cat."

Annoyance replaced her brief worry, yet Hermione silently drew the towel down Malfoy's neck and across his shoulders. Almost against her will, she could feel every contour of his (_unfortunately_) muscled body as she continued onto his chest, and the foreign, hard expanse under her fingers left her with pink cheeks.

_Completely and utterly humiliating, you floozy. Is this going to happen to you every time you deal with a male patient? Will you morph into an awkward, hormonal teenaged girl every time you happen to feel a few wayward muscles? _

Hermione gritted her teeth and wiped down his stomach, refraining from letting her eyes linger too long in one place lest he catch her gawking. She hated to admit it to herself, but judging from the look of his abs, Malfoy took working out _very _seriously. There was a momentary silence as she focused on nothing but the towel, thoroughly frustrated by her lack of mental control and his stupid, incredibly fit body.

_Damn you, brain. And damn you, Malfoy. Why couldn't you just be a pale, chubby slob like I'd always assumed you'd be? _

Hermione cleared her throat. "So, ahem, er...care to explain what you think brought on this condition?"

Malfoy ignored the question and leered at her as he took in her still slightly colored cheeks. "Ah, I seem to have had quite the effect on you, Granger."

"Don't make me laugh, ferret. I'm just shocked at how remarkably pale you are. Do you know, you are literally three shades away from being deemed part-albino?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and answered the original question: "I don't know for sure if this is the real issue, but it could be that this happened because I forgot to take that blue potion."

Hermione frowned as she tried to remember him ever mentioning a blue potion. "Blue potion? What for?"

His eyes glinted at her as he venomously replied, "Just a little something I was given that night your effing lapdog lashed out. You really ought to keep him on a tighter leash, Granger. One of these days, his face is going to end up smashed like a certain bottle of alcohol..."

"Just because you have the foresight of a rabid squirrel and the fighting prowess of one does not mean you have any reason to pin the blame on Eric like you'd done nothing wrong," she retorted.

Malfoy made to jump up, but could only manage balancing himself on his elbows. "Do not push your luck, Granger," he snarled. "Your bloody boyfriend caused me to end up on the receiving end of one of Mother's rants. If this Eric of yours knows what's good for him, he'll stay the hell out of my way until the end of time."

"Well, now, honestly," she remarked contemptuously. "What are we to do if some spoiled pureblood has to answer to his mummy every now and then? Maybe your mum wouldn't treat you like a five year-old if you would stop acting like one."

Suddenly, he was sitting fully upright, and Hermione could see the muscles in his jaw working. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed her by the back of her neck, drawing her so close that she could feel his breath blowing into her face. She tried to push back, but the hand that clasped her did not yield, and she was left staring deep into a pair of stormy, silver eyes. He leaned in even further, moving slowly until there was no more than a few inches between their faces, and Hermione felt an odd tingling begin to spread through her limbs like someone had injected a live current into her veins. He jerked back, causing her to nearly tumble across his lap; she was forced to flatten her hands against his chest to keep from colliding into him.

Malfoy tilted his head slightly to the right and asked in a husky voice, "Do five year-olds act like this, Granger?"

She couldn't answer. If she opened her lips, her internal organs would burst out, covering Malfoy with a hodgepodge of two pathetic lungs, a dormant brain, and one highly dysfunctional heart.

His fingers no longer held her skin taut. Now, it was almost like they were caressing her, swirling patterns into her flesh with all the softness of feathers. Hermione tried once more to push off of him, but this time, he used his other hand to encircle one of her wrists, essentially locking her in position. The warmth of his palms felt like fire, but the pressure was not painful...rather it was making her sort of _light-headed. _

_What...what is happening? What is he doing? _

"Well, do they?"

She'd forgotten how to breathe. What was breathing, again? Oh right, you were supposed to inhale and exhale rhythmically so that the body's cells could receive sufficient oxygen. Easier said than done.

"Tsk, tsk," Malfoy tutted quietly. His eyes had never strayed for a second. "It's unusual to have you rendered speechless, darling. Don't tell me you're falling for me."

_Falling...for you? Oh, HELL NO._

Hermione decided to play the part and throw him off-guard. She tilted her head to the right as well and mirrored his nonchalant smirk, being careful to curl her fingers lightly against his chest. "Oh my," she murmured in as smoky a voice she could muster. "You've completely taken me by surprise. Naughty, naughty," she said with a low laugh.

_Ah, Andi, if you could see me now. I should just give up modeling and become a full-time hooker._

His jaw dropped and the hand that had been at her neck slipped off. She smiled sultrily at him before leaning over and whispering in his ear, "Pity...you didn't have that bad of a face."

And before the poor bastard could let the words sink in, Hermione Granger punched Draco Malfoy in the face for the second time in her life.

...

Pain. Pain throbbing in his left cheek. It felt as if he'd knocked heads with a mountain ogre and then repeatedly slapped himself in the face with a boulder. Comfort. Ah, comfort. Wait. Comfort? Why was the pain going away?

Draco reluctantly opened his eyes to find himself staring at a polished black ceiling decorated with silver and gold designs. He turned his head to see Blaise holding a container of salve, his expression an ominous combination of pity and aggravation.

"What?" Draco barked gruffly, mentally preparing himself to battle through another tirade of _blah blah this _and _blah blah that. _

His best friend said nothing, and merely set the salve aside before snapping his fingers.

Instantly, a well-dressed house-elf materialized alongside a floating tray holding a bowl of creamy soup and a perfectly baked, golden bread roll. The little servant scurried forward, leading the tray to hover in front of Draco. Blaise snapped again to dismiss the house-elf, and with a bow of its wrinkly head, the docile creature was gone.

"Er, thanks," Draco mumbled as he dunked the bread into the soup and took a bite. He could feel dark eyes drilling holes into his head as he ate.

An awkward couple of minutes passed as the only sounds to be heard were of Draco chewing and swallowing while Blaise sat perfectly still. Once the food was gone, Draco heaved a great sigh and plastered a look of utmost boredom on his face. He cracked his knuckles and stretched out his arms, relishing the obnoxious popping noises that echoed along the walls. He made a great show of rolling out his shoulders and twisting his torso around, basically doing anything that would prove to his mute companion that he was undeniably at ease. Draco contemplated whistling a lively tune to refine his carefree attitude, but something about the way Blaise was watching him gave him a distinctly morbid feeling.

Finally, he cracked.

"ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT, GODDAMNIT, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? I'VE BEEN SITTING HERE EATING BLOODY BREAD AND ONION SOUP FOR THE PAST HALF-HOUR, AND ALL YOU DO IS SIT THERE AND STARE AT ME LIKE YOU'VE FOUND OUT I MOLEST BABY DRAGONS FOR A LIVING! I'VE HAD IT, I TELL YOU! ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!"

The other man had raised an eyebrow at the "baby dragons" part, but his cold demeanor never wavered.

"I'M SERIOUS, ZABINI! IF YOU'VE GOT SOMETHING ON YOUR MIND, HURRY UP AND OUT WITH IT. I AM TIRED OF THIS BULLSHIT! I-"

"Shut up."

"HOW DA-"

"Shut UP."

"I WILL NOT SHUT UP, YOU-"

"DRACO MALFOY, SHUT THE HOLY FUCK UP!"

This final roar boomed throughout the room, and Draco was left breathing heavily amidst a whirlpool of sheets, pillows, and blankets. He glared at Blaise with newfound animosity, methodically grinding his teeth with each angry burst of air that pushed out from his lungs.

"Thank you," Blaise said in a clipped tone. He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet at shoulder-width. He looked exactly like an incensed father about to berate a misbehaved child.

"Draco," he continued acidly. "I've been friends with you ever since that time you yelled at Parkinson on the Hogwarts Express for speaking ill of my family. After that, I always saw you as kind of a role model – sure, you had your flaws like having a monstrous ego and flaunting your wealth around like a rotten brat – but in the end, I saw you do and feel things that contradicted how the rest of the world saw you. You had your good moments, fleeting as they might have been, and those occasional gems were what held you up in my eyes." His voice grew softer and kinder, and his arms were no longer crossed. "I remember how you used to run around at night, telling us that you were off practicing with your broomstick, but actually writing letters to your parents up on the Astronomy Tower. I remember how you took Parkinson to the Yule Ball, despite initially deciding to reject her, because you felt guilty inside after seeing how earnest she was about being your date. I remember how you always watched my back, even when I thought that people would rip my guts out if they could."

Draco lowered his head and addressed his knees. "You remember a lot of things, Zabini. But what does all of that have to do with me right now?"

Blaise sighed and furrowed his brow as he squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "My point, Drake, is that once upon a time, you were really a _good guy._ Like I said, your virtues weren't obvious by any means, but hell...you were a lot better than most of us. My question to you now is, where is that boy?"

Draco lifted his head and stared at Blaise through heavy eyes. "If this is about fucking Granger, Zabini..."

"You're right. It is," Blaise snapped staunchly.

"AGAIN with that woman?"

"Work with me, Draco! I told you all of this so that you would realize that clearly there is more to her than meets the eye, just as you are not a one-dimensional person! Maybe you hate her just for the sake of hating her, not because you genuinely think there's something wrong with her."

"If you think that I'm going to become one of those brainless twits who sucks up to the Goddess Divine of the Golden Trio, you are sorely mistaken," Draco hissed through gritted teeth.

"No one's asking you to kiss her arse, mate," Blaise replied wearily. "All I'm asking is that you grow up and be civil."

"Be civil! Ha! Do you know where I got this?"

Draco swiveled his head around to show his bruised cheek before getting to his feet and saying menacingly, "You want civil, my friend? This is what that bloody banshee did to me! You lecture me on the merits of acting human while the object of your obsession is going around pummeling people's faces! Like hell I'm going to 'grow up,' as you so put it."

"If I were her, I would have done a lot more than just punch you," Blaise spat. "You deserve to be scalped for how you've treated her. And especially after she took care of you, all just because YOU were irresponsible and didn't take your damned potion when you were supposed to!"

Draco opened his mouth and then closed it, thinking back to when he had been lying on a couch, had something poured down his throat, and then had felt a soothing coolness slowly subside the fire blazing on his skin. She had freshened him up, but then something had happened...what had he done?

_Merlin, help me._

He'd pulled her in and tried to seduce her. She had been a hair's breadth away within seconds, and he could still feel her palms pressing against him, how his hand curved at the base of her neck, enveloped by that mound of brown hair.

_What...what have I done?_

Something about being five years old. She had tried to get away, and then...something had gone wrong. She had tossed her hair and leaned in closer, murmuring words in a tone that hinted at unspeakable things. And then...and then...

Oh, right. Pain. Loads of it, really. The impact of her punch had stunned him, and he'd toppled over sideways, thankfully planting his battered face into a fluffy pillow. He vaguely remembered a series of curses going in and out of his ears, but the last thing he'd seen had been a door opening and a dark-skinned person striding over...

"Draco? Draco?"

His reverie broken, Draco blinked at Blaise. "So it was you. Granger called you over to come drag me away."

"Wasn't like she had much choice," Blaise sniggered. "She couldn't very well call your mother, now could she?"

Draco shuddered to think of the possibilities: if his mother had found out that he'd collapsed because of the fight from before, she would have placed him under house-arrest until he was old and senile, wasting away in a mangy cot somewhere without two Sickles to flip.

"Exactly," Blaise said grimly. "You've got to give her credit, though," he added thoughtfully.

"Who, Mother?"

"Nah, I meant Granger."

_Of course you did, you wanker._

Draco grunted to indicate his indifference. He was starting to tire of hearing _that _name.

"I mean, she took you in even after you tried to intimidate her for the umpteenth time, gave you a temporary remedy, and even bothered to have you escorted out by someone who actually cared about you. Doesn't that warrant some credit?"

_Yay, the bitch has a conscience to go with that bloody overstuffed brain of hers! Somebody go bring me a jar to hold my overflowing tears of joy._

"Right. And then she socked me. In the face. But apparently, that doesn't matter to Blaise Fucking Zabini because lo and behold! Granger's a bloody saint!"

"Merlin, if you would just listen to yourself. Acting like she's mortally wounded you in battle before. I've heard of bruised egos, but I feel like in your case, the ego's shattered."

"I seriously don't get you," Draco exclaimed in disbelief. "You'd rather defend some arrogant know-it-all with a superiority complex than your own best mate?"

Blaise chortled. "Funny, Drake, I never asked you to describe yourself."

Grey eyes narrowed into slits. "I've had enough of this shit. If I don't get myself washed up soon, I'm going to end up ripping off someone's head."

Blaise shrugged and gestured towards his lavish bathroom. "Feel free to use my stuff. I'll lend you some clothes to change into."

His offer was met with the slamming of a door, followed by a lot of cacophonous banging and incomprehensible yelling. Soon, the sound of running water filled the air, and Blaise slumped against the back of the armchair with his head pounding like mad. After nearly fifteen minutes, Draco emerged barefoot with a towel draped over his shoulder, wearing only a pair of simple black slacks. He saw his friend watching him unabashedly, made a rude hand gesture that would have earned him a tight slap from his mother, and strutted over to the giant mirror that hung on the wall next to a dresser.

"Please, Zabini, try to keep your eyes in check," Draco drawled as he critically examined his unblemished jawline. "I can't handle having another man stare at me with such naked lust written all over his face."

Blaise rolled his eyes and stuck his hands in his pockets as he traipsed over to where Draco was. He stared at the pair's reflection in the mirror, frowning and biting his lip from time to time. Draco refused to acknowledge the unwanted presence, and instead chose to spend the next five minutes fussing over his already immaculately styled hair. Eventually though, the feeling of lingering together in silence broke Draco's restraint and he spun on his heel to face the cheeky git.

"Got something to say?" he taunted. "Or are my pheromones proving to be too much for you? If you want, I can go put on my shirt..."

In the blink of an eye, Blaise's hands rocketed out of his pockets and slammed down on Draco's shoulders before pushing him back until his body was flat against the mirror. Blaise tightly held Draco in place as he stepped forward and angled his head inwards, his eyes never wandering from the other man's. Breath after breath floated onto the glass behind the blond head, and a foggy halo seemed to surround Draco's face.

For once in his life, Draco was absolutely speechless.

"Draco Malfoy," Blaise whispered in an impassioned tone. "All my life, I've wanted to do something to you. Something beautiful. Magical. Something that I think will change the way we see each other, forever. I've yearned to do this for so long, but I've never had the courage to approach you. I never had the guts to just follow my heart."

Draco couldn't say anything. He stood, transfixed by the Italian's fiery gaze, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny voice was screaming its fucking throat out about how there was something terribly, undeniably wrong with this whole scene.

_DRACO MALFOY, WAKE THE FUCK UP, YOU NO GOOD SON OF A BITCH! DO YOU EVEN REALIZE WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?_

Blaise roughly steered Draco away from the mirror and guided him towards his bed. Draco stumbled backwards mindlessly, confused so much that all cognitive abilities had been rendered utterly useless. He felt the soft mattress against his thighs and realized that Blaise's hands were still flattened on his shoulders.

The expression in Blaise's dark eyes was one of primal necessity, and Draco found that he no longer could even swallow. His throat had run dry, and the voice in his head had already been shocked past the point of no return.

"Finally, Draco, I've found the courage to do what I've always wanted to do. You're mine now, and nobody, _nobody _can stop me."

Draco shut his eyes as tightly as he could, willing the universe to unleash all its mystical power and envelop him in a cyclone of hellfire and molten lava. He thought of all the times he'd ever teased Blaise about the dark boy's secret fantasies, how he'd never thought twice about stripping down in front of the person he considered to be something like a brother. He thought of how all his life, he'd never entertained the idea for a second that something other than a pair of breasts could entice him. He thought of how he'd never stopped to reevalute his relationship with Blaise because he'd always deemed the bond one made by common backgrounds (sexy purebloods with neurotic parents), similar abilities (indescribably intelligent, able to charm the pants off of anything with a pulse), and mutual interests (money, Quidditch, and sex – not necessarily in that order). He thought of how -

Hold on.

Why did he have so much time to think?

Draco fearfully pried one eye open and stammered, "B-B-Blaise?"

Blaise grinned a thousand-watt smile and cupped Draco's face with his hands. "You'll thank me for this later, sweetheart."

And for the second time that day, Draco Malfoy was unceremoniously punched in the face.

...

Delilah Skybrook gazed around fondly at her little cafe. She'd just opened the place a year ago, but the customers poured in like ants storming a picnic, and both her heart and her checkbook had managed to find their happy place. She was the owner of "Heartstrings," a cute corner shop that catered to the snacking whims of overly-eager teenaged girls and their reluctant boyfriends. She'd had enough regulars to have learned dozens of names by now, but there was always that one pair that seemed to elude her memory.

They always entered together amidst gales of laughter. The kind of laughter that involved crinkled eyes, rosy cheeks, and lack of breath. Delilah had first watched them with the same tenderness that she reserved for all her special couples, but soon concluded that there was something different about them.

It wasn't that they secretly hated each other or anything. It was just that...they seemed a bit _older _than what she was used to seeing.

Of course, she had no problem with older customers, but her cafe was known as the popular meeting spot for the young wizards and witches. This certain couple just didn't act the same as everyone else.

This particular evening, the duo arrived in the typical light-hearted state and immediately headed for their regular booth, a small compartment located in the far corner of the shop. The woman was tiny, but her smile and booming laughter eclipsed any issues with her height. The man who accompanied her was handsome to say the least. He had an intelligent, charismatic personality, and his clothes always appeared to be of the highest quality. The moment they entered the booth, their voices were hushed, and the general clamoring inside the cafe masked what they were saying.

Delilah chewed the inside of her cheek, momentarily ambivalent about what she would do. She could already hear her husband complaining about how she always had to stick her nose in everything, but she couldn't help it if her mind sought a bit of insight every now and then, could she?

With a swish of her apron, she sauntered through the cheerful crowds with a tray balanced on her hand, and casually stopped by a table next to the booth. Under the pretense that she was deeply interested in the condition of her salt shaker, she strained to hear what the two were speaking of.

"I just don't understand," the woman sighed. "She's so stubborn, you know?"

"Trust me, I know. I deal with it every day."

"They're so stupid, the two of them. Honestly, it frazzles my mind thinking about it."

"Rushing them won't help."

"I don't care. They're meant for each other, the idiots."

"If only they'd open their eyes for once."

"Bloody nitwits."

The man chuckled. "Be kind, darling. Not everyone is as quick as us."

"But still..."

"I know."

There was the sound of a fist slamming down onto the table. "They're wasting time!"

"It'll happen eventually. We just have to help it along."

"You're damn right, we do."

"Trust me. It'll all work out."

"I trust you, darling. It's those two I don't."

The man chuckled again and then there was silence.

With another swish of her apron and skirt, Delilah pivoted and faced the couple with a sweet smile of obliviousness. The man and woman looked up and smiled back warmly.

"And what can I offer you two dearies?"

...


	9. Chapter 9

**WARNING: **You're in for a looonng chapter. Please refrain from cursing me until the end of the chapter. Thank you, and enjoy! ^_^

**Official Chapter Dedication: _Moonlitechild91_ **for being the most recent person to add me as a Favorite Author! THANK YOU!

...

**Dynamite In Our Souls**

"It may please you to know, Hermione, that Draco will be in Shanghai for the day to deal with some business."

Hermione glanced sharply at Blaise while rearranging some files on her desk. "Does this mean he'll be back tomorrow?" It was difficult to keep the loathing out of her voice.

Blaise nodded with a rueful smile. "Well, I'd assume so, unless he meets with a horrible Flooing accident that causes various parts of his body to be scattered out into the universe."

Her eyes glinted at the beautiful thought. She thought she could hear a chorus of angels harmonizing in the background. "Yes, that would be most...unfortunate."

Blaise grimaced as he sat down to face her. "You know, Hermione, I don't mean any harm, but don't you think life would be a lot simpler if maybe you and Draco just got along?"

She laughed an unnaturally high-pitched laugh, one that was tinged with borderline hysteria. "Oh, Blaise, you poor thing! Is that the best argument you've come up with? Let me guess: you've already tried that spiel on Malfoy, but it failed to have any effect, so now you've turned to me! Really, where were you when Voldemort was around? You could have merely sat down with him and Harry and said in that diplomatic way of yours, 'Come now, Voldy, don't you think life would be a lot simpler if you and Harry just got along?'"

He scowled at her as she continued to laugh. "Snigger all you'd like, but I speak the truth!"

"He speaks the truth, ladies and gentlemen," Hermione announced theatrically to the walls as she solemnly placed a hand over her heart. "Blaise Zabini speaks nothing but the truth."

"Cut it out!"

She dropped her hand, and with it, her comedic facade. Her tone became abruptly icy. "You should understand, Blaise, that the hatred is the only thing Malfoy and I have in common. It is our sole mutual interest, and we are bound together by nothing more than a simmering blood-lust."

He frowned at her words and began drumming his fingers on her desk. "But if you just gave him a chance..."

"He has had too many chances!" Hermione exclaimed angrily. "That night in the club, seeing him again after all those years...I was prepared to give him a chance, to offer him an opportunity for forgiveness. And the minute he opened his mouth, what happened?" Her voice fell to a harsh whisper as she glared down at the innocent papers in her hands. "The same bloody nonsense, just like before! Don't you see, Blaise? The man never grew up! He never learned to let go, to live and let live. Even now, he is the same smarmy, pretentious, shallow git that he was back in Hogwarts. Forget about me befriending him, I don't know how you can even _tolerate_ him!"

This fiery rant was met with silence, and Blaise watched her as she slammed the papers down, her cheeks red and her eyes blazing. Some hair had managed to escape from her bun and now hung in sorry disarray. He sighed, stood up, and walked over to where she was still standing with her hands curled into fists.

"Look, I know it's difficult," he began.

"You're damn right it's difficult," she interjected hotly. "You have no idea."

He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as she steadied her composure by taking deep breaths. "I do, really. I understand how easy it is to hate someone like Draco. He's belligerent, hot-headed, fiercely competitive, proud, and often oblivious to a fault. But I suppose," he added as an afterthought, "that that's what makes him so much like you."

_Say WHAT?_

Hermione struggled to contain her hurt as Blaise regarded her with a kind smile. "How can you...how can you say such a cruel thing?" she cried.

"You misunderstand," he explained patiently. "Those are the things that make Draco the dynamic, explosive person he is. Of course, all of those traits can be counted as vices, but if you see them from another angle, you'll realize how useful it can be to have such a personality. When I say you and he are alike, I mean that you both have dynamite in your souls! It is meant as a compliment, not as an insult."

"Merlin, you have an awful way of putting things sometimes," she muttered churlishly.

"Once upon a time, I tried to be tactful. Things went wrong, so I gave up. The end."

One side of Hermione's mouth quickly rose up into a smile, but it fell almost immediately. "You must genuinely like him to defend him like this."

He nodded very seriously and crossed his arms over his chest. "There are days when I want to kill him. Then there are days when he does something so out-of-character, I hardly know what to do with myself. Those are the days you should keep an eye out for, Hermione, because I promise that those days will forever change what you think of him."

_Yeah, no bias in that statement whatsoever, right, Zabini?_

She shrugged, unconvinced, and scribbled something down on a notepad before looking up and asking, "Oh, you said you had something to ask about the photo shoot from yesterday?"

"Ah, right. I wanted to know if you'd like to stick around tomorrow afternoon and review the photos before we blow them up this weekend for circulation. We'll be having both moving and stationary versions, and I thought you might want to help choose some good ones."

Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Ha! No, thanks. You can count me out."

"So you won't come?"

"I may be many things, Zabini, but 'clinically insane' isn't one of them."

"So you won't?"

"It's not even a question of 'won't,' it's that I can't!" she snapped.

"Why?"

Hermione fished around for an excuse until she realized that she already had a perfectly plausible reason in her arsenal. "I, er...I have a date!"

Blaise raised his eyebrows in what seemed to be half skepticism and half surprise. "A date? A date with whom?"

"A man, as you may be shocked to hear."

"This is exactly what I meant about you and Draco being alike," Blaise grumbled quietly.

"What was that?"

"Er, nothing. So, seriously, who is this date of yours? I'm extremely curious."

Hermione waved a hand dismissively as she zeroed in on a stack of folders in front of her. "Probably not someone you'd know."

_Hopefully he doesn't remember the name of the man who clobbered the living daylights out of Malfoy..._

"Try me."

"Fine. His name is Eric Crawford. Happy?"

Blaise sprang up from his chair and gaped at her with eyes the size of Fanged Frisbees. "Eric Crawford? The man we, er, met at that nightclub? Son of Nicholas Crawford, the foremost pioneer of Magitecture? You're going out with him?"

"Yes, I am going out with Eric. Tomorrow, in fact. That's why I won't be here to review the photos."

He shook his head in disbelief and slowly made his way to the door. "Eric Crawford..." he murmured.

"Well, is that all right?" she called from behind him.

Blaise continued to appear troubled as he stepped out into the corridor. "Yes, yes, that's fine," he said distractedly with his brow furrowed. "You go on ahead with your date. We'll manage."

Hermione watched him as he strode off with his head bent and his hands in his pockets. Clearly he was deep in thought.

_What on earth is he so riled up for?_

**THE NEXT DAY:**

Hermione returned to her apartment in a jittery mood, anxious about her date that evening. Her working hours had passed uneventfully as she had not encountered that albino snake a single time, allowing her to peacefully file documents throughout the day. She now opened the door, yearning for some down-time, only to find that Andi had stormed in and already begun preparations for the big night. The bathwater was running, the day-old pile of dirty dishes had been cleared, and a red outfit that looked rather scandalous even from twenty feet away lay on her bed. A merry laugh spilled into her ears as Andi grabbed her by the waist and tugged her into the small hallway. Without even a moment to protest the blatant violation of privacy, Hermione was stripped down and shoved into the bathroom holding a matching pair of undergarments and a fluffy pink towel.

_You would think she'd have some sense of personal space now that she's a grown woman._

Right. As if.

With a little sigh of contentment, Hermione stepped into her sweet-smelling bathtub and sank into the hot water, relishing the sudden tranquility that had enveloped her. She had hardly enjoyed herself for more than ten minutes when Andi began banging away on the door, yelling for Hermione to hurry up (but in slightly fouler language).

Groaning, Hermione drained the water, dried herself off, and put on the undergarments before walking into her bedroom where a certain force of nature was hard at work extracting fossilized makeup items from the depths of a mahogany dresser.

"Stop sulking!" Andi scolded as she reached into a drawer and tried to feel around for something worthwhile. "All right!" she exclaimed triumphantly as she pulled out an eyeshadow kit. "Hermione, babe, you've got all these treasures lying around. Didn't it ever occur to you to actually _use _them?"

Hermione morosely examined the spread of heinous colors and contraptions lying on her bed and shook her head. "No, Andi, I can honestly say it never has."

Andi planted her hands on her hips and glowered at Hermione who fought the urge to flee. "Now you listen to me, woman. I will not allow you to prevent me from dressing you up exactly as I like. If I hear one peep come out of your mouth, I will make sure to entertain Eric with stories of how you reacted when you found out what an 'orgy' was!"

_OH MY HIPPOGRIFF, ANYTHING BUT THAT!_

Hermione visibly blanched at the horrifying threat and bleated, "But you know I'm not comfortable with too much makeup and daring dresses..."

"Tough luck," the blonde said as she lifted the red dress up and held it out to the other girl. "Now shut up and put this on."

Helplessly, Hermione took the dress, slipped it on, and stared at her reflection.

_Merlin, have mercy._

The dress flared open at her shoulders and the neckline dipped down to reveal what Hermione considered a disgraceful hint of cleavage. The satin fabric clung to her body and ended right below her knees, with (_alas!_) a slit up the back. In a way, the outfit was very "Muggle-from-the-1950's," but the neckline completely negated any sense of propriety she might have felt otherwise.

"Um, I feel like this small detail might have been overlooked, but Eric distinctly mentioned a date at a bookshop," Hermione said.

Andi whipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled impishly. "Oh, didn't I tell you? He sent another owl a while ago saying he wanted to change the location to a fancy downtown restaurant called 'Silver Cascades.'"

"What? Why didn't you mention this earlier?"

"I didn't think I had to. Now sit down, Herms, and let me see what we've got going on here."

When Hermione did not immediately comply, her friend shrieked, "Sit your bloody ass down!" This tactic worked very effectively, needless to say.

_Who exactly is going out on the date here anyways?_

An hour later, Hermione was standing in front of the majestic restaurant which was complete with bubbling fountains, impeccably dressed valets, and a jazzy ambiance. She could feel the butterflies flitting around like mad in her stomach, and for a few delusional seconds, she actually contemplated running away and staying at a hotel for the night instead.

_Really, I mean, what's the worst that would happen? Eric would have an epiphany and realize that I am nothing more than a human manifestation of an awkward turtle, and Andi would find new reason to slaughter me in my sleep. And of course, if she murders me, I'll never have to see that dratted ferret's face ever again, so honestly, it's a win-win situation!_

She had practically turned on her heel to begin the fleeing part when a shiny red sports car pulled up right next to her. Eric smoothly stepped out from behind the steering wheel, tossed his keys to a valet while making a joke, and then walked up to one very flustered Hermione Granger.

"Hello there, Hermione," he greeted her cheerfully as he took her hand and kissed it. "You look lovely."

Hermione felt incapable of doing anything apart from smiling bashfully at him, so grin like an idiot she did. And Merlin, but if he didn't clean up well... He was wearing crisp black dress pants and a white dress shirt that he'd left opened at the collar again, thus leaving Hermione to ogle that tanned expanse of his skin again…

_Ah, grow up, dammit!_

"Thank you," she replied, her voice on the verge of cracking. "You look pretty fine yourself."

Eric stared at her as her own words echoed through her ears. Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth and gawked at him, mortified. "Oh – oh my god, Eric, I did NOT mean to say that, oh my god…"

_I must have just sounded like the cheapest whore in all of London! Dear Merlin, what is wrong with me?_

He blinked at her once before bursting into hearty laughter. "Hermione, oh, Hermione," he chuckled as he placed his hand at the small of her back and gently nudged her towards the restaurant entrance. "That was possibly the best compliment I've ever received in my life. You don't have to apologize!"

"B-but I-"

Her words were cut short by a wink from him which just happened to stop her heart all over again. He grinned at her, showing off those dreamy dimples again, and led her inside where stood a pleasant-faced young woman carrying a pair of menus.

"Table for two under 'Crawford,' if you please," Eric said.

She bowed her head once in welcome before sweeping out an arm and saying, "If you would please follow me, sir and madam, I shall lead you to your table."

Eric nodded before turning to Hermione (who was still beet-red from her gaffe) and warmly smiling down at her. "Hey. Hey, look at me."

She refused to lift her eyes and kept her gaze trained on a nearby potted plant.

"Hermione, look at me."

Reluctantly, she twisted her head in his direction but still maintained her downward gaze. She gasped when his fingers suddenly appeared under her chin and tilted her face up towards him, the warmth of his hand doing delightful things to her skin.

His mellow hazel eyes seemed to speak in volumes even though his voice was soft. "Hermione, please don't be so embarrassed. I know you're probably tearing yourself up right now, thinking that I must be disgusted with you. In all honesty, I'm nervous as hell myself, and I believe it's only a matter of time before I make a complete fool of myself in front of _you._ So please…don't beat yourself up. The night's still young, and we have so much time left to mortify ourselves even more – why waste that time here in a restaurant's reception area?"

This managed to lure a shy smile out of Hermione, and Eric moved his hand from under her chin to a curl dangling by her cheek. "That one always seems to find its way out," he murmured as he tucked it behind her ear.

With flaming cheeks, Hermione took a step back and addressed his black leather shoes. "Er, we should probably go to our table now. I feel like the waitress has been waiting for an hour."

Sure enough, the waitress stood a little ways off with a patient smile, her arm still locked in that outstretched gesture.

_Ouch, that must hurt a bit._

"May I lead you to your table now, sir?" the woman asked decorously.

"Yes, please," Eric said as he followed the waitress with Hermione at his side. "I'm absolutely starving for some food. Do you have any recommendations for the night?"

"Well," the woman said as the pair took their seats at a circular table lit by candlelight. "Every Friday, the chef introduces a new dish to the menu. As it is, today our special is a dessert called 'Lover's Kiss' which consists of an airy chocolate mousse drizzled with hot fudge and caramel, topped by a dash of whipped cream."

"Excellent!" Eric exclaimed. "I'm sure we'd love to try this…Lover's Kiss." He shot Hermione a devilish grin as he said this, and she nearly fell out of her chair from surprise.

"I'll leave you to peruse the menu then, sir."

"Yes, thank you."

_Relax, Hermione, relax. You're at a top-notch restaurant with an angelic man flirting with you. This is just about you and him. No one else. Nothing is going to happen. Just keep calm and carry on. _

"So, Hermione, see anything you like?"

Hermione set her menu aside and let a sultry smile play on her scarlet lips as she boldly gazed directly at him over the candles. "Why, yes, Eric, I do."

_I am woman, hear me roar. _

…

Draco wearily laid his head back against his chair and closed his eyes to think. The business meeting in Shanghai had gone well enough, but now there was a hitch: the head honcho of the main syndicate had taken a great liking to Draco, insisting that his own daughter would love to have dinner with the "exquisite young man." Draco had attempted to smoothly turn down the man's request, but had merely found himself saddled with taking the daughter out for dinner somewhere in London. It wasn't that the girl was ugly or an utter imbecile; he just wasn't interested. It had been a while since he'd gotten some peace and quiet, but he supposed that chaos was nothing more than a side effect of being remarkably handsome _and _successful in a world full of sex-crazed females.

He had just stood up to Floo back to his manor when Blaise materialized in the fireplace. The man hurried out from under the mantle, not bothering to dust off the ashes from his shoulders, and thrust a piece of paper at Draco, saying, "All right, listen. You're going to a restaurant called 'Silver Cascades' in downtown London. It's a fancy place that Theodore recommended to me a while ago, and a friend there owes me a favor anyway, so just go there."

Draco read the address of the restaurant on the slip in his hand. "But I've already told Mei Lin that we'll be meeting somewhere else."

Blaise shook his head quickly. "No, don't worry, that's already been taken care of. Just go get dressed for dinner and then get to the restaurant within twenty minutes. Mei Lin knows to meet you there, so you don't have to worry about picking her up or anything."

Draco frowned suspiciously. Something was not right about the way his friend was acting. "Hey, Zabini, are you all right? You seem a little out of it."

"I'm fine. Just go get ready."

Draco continued to frown, but stepped past Blaise into the fireplace and Flooed to the manor. Twenty minutes later, he was idly waiting at the restaurant's front doors for his date. He had impatiently flicked his sleeve back to check his watch when there was the sound of someone Apparating next to him. He looked aside to see Mei Lin gracefully approach him with a demure expression on her porcelain face. She was wearing a long, flowing gray gown with a slit going high up her thigh, and her wrists and earlobes were adorned with pearls.

Draco slowly raked his eyes along her pale skin, hoping she would be properly scandalized and abandon him, allowing him to go home and enjoy a bit of overdue solitude. Despite his blatant lack of manners, the girl merely tittered at the attention and grabbed hold of his arm, tugging him inside the restaurant.

A cheerful waiter greeted them and showed them to their seats. Draco, already extremely bored, opted to rip his side of the tablecloth to shreds for the next two hours after placing their orders, but his date had an unfortunate penchant for making conversation.

"So, Mr. Malfoy," she said in an annoyingly dainty voice. "Have you lived here in England all your life?"

"Yes."

"It's a lovely country, I must say. It's exactly the way the media portrays it."

"Mm."

"I don't travel outside of China much. I often tell my father that I wish to see the world, but he claims that a woman such as me cannot handle so much." She paused after she said this, expectantly waiting for Draco to say something charming or witty. He decided to disappoint her.

"Perhaps your father is right."

Her winsome expression fell a bit, but she valiantly continued to blabber on. "It bothers me how my father can be so narrow-minded sometimes. It is as if he does not realize it is the twenty-first century. I tell him that women nowadays are achieving such great things, but he remains deaf to my words."

_And for good reason, you parrot. I get the feeling you'd keep talking even if I walked away right now._

"I mean, look at all the things modern women have accomplished. Countless advancements in potions, witchcraft, and magical theory. And let's not forget, the most vicious dark army of our time was vanquished in part by Hermione Granger, the epitome of a successful woman."

Draco lifted his head up to stare incredulously at Mei Lin, conveniently ignoring the reproachful glares of the waiter who'd seen him shredding the tablecloth. "Excuse me, but did you just say 'Granger?'"

She nodded eagerly at him and cried, "Oh, but I forgot! You went to school with her, didn't you?"

"Ah, yes, we were…er, dear friends."

_Liar, liar, balls on fire…_

"You are so lucky to be connected to her. I remember reading about her in the newspaper all the time, how she managed to do so much under such savage circumstances. She was and still is one of my biggest heroes."

_Unless you want to be covered in projectile vomit, I suggest you close your mouth._

"Is that so?" he responded snobbishly. "I didn't realize people kept up with her like that."

"Are you joking?" Mei Lin asked with raised eyebrows. "She is nothing short of a celebrity, at least for the wizarding community in China. Our culture is grounded in honor, commitment, and solidarity, and Hermione Granger has upheld those tenets despite whatever trials she has faced. We admire her and are indebted to her for both warding off evil and being such a paragon of virtue."

_Let's see, if I take my fork and slit my wrists horizontally, I'll eventually die of blood loss. But I heard that you die faster if you cut vertically, so…_

A wicked thought crept into his head. "Actually, you know, I have the…privilege of seeing Granger regularly."

"Really?" she gasped.

_Fan-bloody-tastic, Draco. You take a girl out on a date and regale her with stories about Granger. You really are the life and soul of the fucking party._

"Yes, indeed. She's actually a-"

Mei Lin suddenly shot up and stared off somewhere behind Draco. She began breathing very hard, and scrabbled around on the table to grab her handbag. "Oh…oh my…"

"Mei Lin?"

She glanced at him apologetically before hurrying to push in her chair. "I'm so sorry. I hate to leave you like this, but I…I just saw…"

And without further ado, she ran off, leaving Draco glowering at the candles in front of him. Part of him wanted to sit right there and eat all the damn food and save _her _the bill, but the other half of him wanted to go find out what the big deal was. Grumbling furiously to himself, he tossed his napkin aside and stormed away from his table to where Mei Lin was animatedly chatting with a brown-haired woman.

Wait. Brown hair.

_This is your chance, Draco! Slit your wrists now and save yourself the trouble for later!_

"Mr. Malfoy!" Mei Lin called, her face glowing with excitement. "Come over here, and see who I've found!"

At her words, the brunette whirled around in her seat and met his defeated gaze with one of unmasked consternation. "Malfoy?" she hissed in disbelief, as if hoping he was just a figment of her imagination.

He smirked at her, half-expecting her to take the knife by her hand and drive it into his jugular. "The one and only."

Then, a man Draco had not yet noticed got to his feet and said, "Malfoy?"

"I thought we'd established that already, Mister…" That was when Draco actually looked at the man and recognized that tanned bugger from the nightclub. "Well, well, well," he said scornfully. "If it isn't Lord Overprotective himself. Fancy meeting you here."

Mei Lin, not seeming to register the tension in the air, gaily explained, "Miss Granger has graciously asked us to come and sit with her, Mr. Malfoy."

"I did not realize Mr. Malfoy was your date, Mei Lin," Granger said in a rather choked way.

"Yes, you see, my father insisted I spend some time in England with Mr. Malfoy to get a feel for some Western life. And in fact, I was just telling Mr. Malfoy about how much I admire you when I noticed you sitting here!"

Granger weakly smiled at her ardent fan. "It really is amazing that you think of me so highly. I don't know that I deserve all your praise."

_Exactly my thoughts. Bravo, Granger. Who'd have thought you'd excel at Legilimency?_

The orange-looking creature next to Granger made an odd coughing noise before saying, "Ah, well. I suppose we ought to make some room for you two." He swiftly cleared enough space for two seats to squeeze in. "Have a seat."

Draco soon found himself wedged in between Mei Lin and Granger, much to his displeasure. Of course, if it were up to him, he wouldn't even bother sitting with this bunch in the first place, but he was not to royally piss off the daughter of a business tycoon.

"Mr. Malfoy was just telling me about how good friends you two were in Hogwarts!" Mei Lin chattered, failing to notice the subtly alarmed looks Draco was shooting her.

_Yup. Screwed to the bone._

Granger violently gripped her fork and shot daggers at Draco. "Is that so?" she asked sweetly, her tone a full contradiction of her composure.

"Well, Granger, you can't deny we've had some pretty wild times, eh?"

Crawford coughed into his napkin as Granger stabbed a piece of meat with her fork. "No," she agreed in that fearsome, saccharine way. "I certainly cannot."

Mei Lin dropped her spoon with a clatter and eagerly leaned in towards Granger. "Oh, please, Miss Granger! Tell me about some of your school days with Mr. Malfoy!"

Granger sighed and replied with a low laugh, "Hm, perhaps I should. What do you think, Malfoy? Should I entertain these two with some Hogwarts memories?"

Crawford sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I'd definitely like to hear this."

Granger smiled at him before gazing inquiringly at Draco again. "So?"

"Do as you'd like, Granger," Draco growled. "Just remember that I'm sitting right next to you in case you feel the urge to slander me in front of my lovely date." With that, he smoothly took Mei Lin's hand and kissed her knuckles, making sure to exaggerate the gesture in front of Granger and her dim-witted boyfriend. Mei Lin responded with yet another girlish giggle.

"Likewise, Malfoy," Granger retorted as she neatly slid over to Crawford and rested her head on his shoulder. The bugger seemed slightly flustered but wasn't able to hide his happiness about this new development.

_What a sucker. _

"So tell me, Miss Granger. Was Mr. Malfoy really a courageous, brilliant young boy? People say he was, but I want to hear your take on it!"

"I don't know if I'd call him courageous," Granger answered with a smirk. "If I recall correctly, Malfoy nearly wet his pants when a troll entered our school during our first year."

Both Mei Lin and Crawford chortled behind their napkins as Draco acerbically asked, "Staring at me that hard, were you?"

"Please, don't be so full of yourself. You just happened to stand out because of your greasy hair and snow-white skin."

Draco angrily opened his mouth to retaliate, but the bitch cut across, exclaiming, "Oh, and then third year was when I achieved a momentous personal victory!"

_Don't. You. Dare._

"I was outside with Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter when Malfoy and his pair of goons came along. Malfoy said some foul things and I...I got so furious, I completely let loose and punched him in the face!"

Mei Lin and Crawford shared a second of shocked silence before dissolving into gales of laughter. Granger joined in during the uproar for a while before raising her glass in Draco's direction for a mock-toast. "To bruised egos," she declared scathingly.

He smirked and raised his glass accordingly. "And to bruised knees as well."

Her eyes widened in confusion. "What do you-"

Maintaining that trademark smirk, Draco swiftly launched his foot under the table and kicked her in the shin. He watched gleefully as she winced in pain and struggled to keep her glass upright.

_Whoops. Clumsy me. _

"Hey, now, what's this, Hermione?" Crawford asked as he very determinedly ignored Draco. "Toasting without us?"

"Ooh, I'll make the toast!" Mei Lin offered with unnecessary enthusiasm. "A toast," she said solemnly as she stood, "to unbreakable friends! May we all enjoy as true a camaraderie as you two." She moved forward to clink her glass against a dumbfounded Granger's and an exasperated Draco's. Even Crawford appeared to be at a loss for words at such a travesty of the truth.

_By Salazar, she's really an idiot, isn't she?_

"But I do have a question," Mei Lin added once she had sat down. "Miss Granger, why do you and Mr. Malfoy address each other by your last names?"

Granger grinned and said in an impressive show of bullshittery, "It's just one of our personal habits, Mei Lin. After all, every unbreakable friendship has some odd quality that sets it apart, don't you think, Malfoy?"

Her words were accompanied by a well-placed blow to Draco's knee that nearly brought tears to his eyes. Draco feigned a short coughing fit to hide his wheezes of agony and seriously considered smashing his plate of pasta into _her _infuriatingly smug face. After what felt like hours, he managed to nod curtly before rising and saying, "Excuse me, Mei Lin, but would you mind if I borrowed Granger for a bit? We'll be right back."

He saw Crawford turn anxiously to Granger with a worried look, but Granger patted the Neanderthal on the back and said, "Don't worry, Eric. Malfoy knows better than to mess with me."

_Yes, I do. Why mess with you when I can just kill you and be done with it?_

Draco grabbed Granger by the wrist and tugged her off into a narrow hallway at the back of the restaurant. He glanced around to check if anyone was around before roughly dragging her into the farthest room and shutting the door behind him. Too late, he realized that the room was entirely pitch-black and futilely searched for a light switch.

"I don't suppose," a familiar voice snarled by his ear, "that you could possibly reopen that door, could you?"

Draco turned and jiggled the door knob, even pounding against the door a few times to loosen it with his shoulder, but it was to no avail.

"It's locked," he croaked.

A humorless laugh echoed behind him. "Might I suggest you use your wand? I didn't think it necessary to bring mine."

He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hand. "I don't have it."

"Damn it!" she shrieked. "I will not rot in some supply closet with you during my date, Malfoy! There's a limit to the amount of bullshit you can take from one person!"

"You think I _want_ to be stuck in here with you, Granger?" he roared. "I'd rather lie in a coma than have to breathe the same air as you!"

The sound of cracking knuckles filled the air. "That can be arranged," she said ominously.

Draco felt a mild wave of panic hit him as he realized that he had no clue where Granger was standing. "Okay, shut up for a second, all right? We need to think. First we have to see if anyone can hear us."

Granger immediately flew forward and began slapping her hands against the door, screaming and shouting for help. Draco yelled alongside her for the next three minutes until he could feel his throat prickling from overexertion.

With a sigh of resignation, Draco slumped to the floor with his back against the wall. "Give it up, Granger. We're going to be here for a while until one of those two idiots notices we've been gone too long."

He heard her slam against the door one more time out of pure frustration before distancing herself from him. "Merlin knows how they'll find us," she complained. "You dragged me into the most remote place possible. I doubt the restaurant even uses this room anymore!"

"They'll have to check here eventually. Someone must have seen us come this way."

"There was also a back exit right next to this room, you moron! They'll just think we left on our own accord when they check down here."

"Well, I refuse to destroy my voice by screaming bloody murder any longer," he said staunchly. "If you want to pop a blood vessel somewhere after shrieking like a banshee, be my guest."

"Ugh! This is all your fault!"

"My fault?" he cried indignantly. "If you hadn't been spouting off with your bloody school stories, none of this would have happened!"

"And if you hadn't let your freaking girlfriend wander around, this whole damn situation could have been avoided!"

"Oh please, if you weren't such a bitch, I wouldn't always want to hurl Unforgivables at you!"

"Well, if you hadn't been born, my life wouldn't have been such a fucking hell!"

Draco felt his insides wither away at this final blow. As the fiery words reverberated inside the room, he found himself being taken back to a day of his life as a five year-old.

**FLASHBACK:**

_A broken wand. Sounds of weeping. A pair of gnarled hands. The flutter of soft robes. _

"_See what your son has done, Narcissa!" The man sounded like thunder unleashed._

"_He didn't mean to, Lucius! He's only a child!"_

"_Only a child? I don't care how old he is! No son of mine could be such a degenerate to snap his own father's wand in half!"_

_The weeping continued. "He was only playing around, dear. We can get you a new one, Lucius. It will serve you the same."_

"_It will never be the same, you stupid whore. The wand chooses the wizard for a lifetime, not for simply a few decades!" _

_Footsteps growing louder. Shadows looming overhead. A shriek piercing his eardrums as he is wrenched aside._

"_No, Lucius! Don't hurt him, your own child!"_

"_He is no son of mine."_

"_Lucius, it was just an accident. Just an accident..."_

"_Shut up! You defend him blindly, Narcissa! I tell you, this boy will bring us nothing but shame and dishonor. We should have abandoned him when we had the chance!"_

"_How can you say such a thing about your own son? If he hadn't been born, our lives would have had no purpose!"_

_The sound of a slap. A cry of pain. Hands drawing him close against a heaving chest. Arms forming a makeshift shield. Whimpering. Silence._

_The words struck him like he was being whipped. "If he hadn't been born, Narcissa, our lives would not be the hell they are now."_

_Sobs. Sounds of footsteps. Door hinges squeaking._

"_And the Dark Lord is our purpose, Narcissa. Do not let me hear you say otherwise again lest I teach your darling son some new tricks. Then the next thing he breaks will be your neck."_

_Tears soaking his shirt. A sound of disgust. A woman wailing. A door slamming shut. _

_Darkness._

**END FLASHBACK**

"Malfoy? Malfoy, hello?"

Draco shook himself to clear his head. He must have dozed off somehow.

"Malfoy, say something!"

He was surprised to hear the hint of panic in her voice. "I'm right here."

There was a hesitant pause. "Are...are you all right?"

"What? What do you mean?"

_Can she sense something?_

"You just sound...different. Hold on."

There was the sound of fabric moving against the hard floor.

"Malfoy! Don't stop talking."

"What?"

"Keep talking."

"About what?"

"Anything. Just keep talking so that I can find you. Tell me about Mei Lin."

"Erm, well, she's the daughter of a Chinese business tycoon. I was supposed to meet up with her in order to get into the family's good graces. It'll supposedly be instrumental in securing-"

Draco froze. She had reached out with a hand and attempted to feel around for him. Now her fingers grazed his cheek, and the sensation caused goosebumps to erupt across his skin.

"Ah, there you are," she sighed in relief as she settled down next to him. He could feel her hip lightly touching his. "Now tell me. What's wrong?"

"Why the sudden interest, Granger? Afraid I'll murder you in the dark if you say something out of line?"

She laughed out loud. "Forgive me, Malfoy, but I do not think you have what it takes to kill me with your bare hands. Bore me to death with your arrogant stories, perhaps. But take my life? I doubt it."

"Don't tempt me. I might secretly be a psychotic criminal on the loose with a taste for frizzy-haired captives."

She elbowed him in the ribs. "It's not frizzy. It's wavy with some ridiculously annoying curls. There's a difference."

"Are we actually having a conversation right now, Granger?"

He felt her lift her body to face him. "Good lord," she said with honest disbelief. "I do believe we are. But, Malfoy?"

"Hm?"

"Did you fall asleep for a while back there? I was calling you and you didn't respond. I thought you'd collapsed like before."

He thought about the memory in his dream. "Yes, I'd just slipped off a bit. I'm not hurting anywhere."

_Except for this small pain in my chest. Because you see, it hurts to remember. _

"Was it a nightmare?"

"What? Er...no."

Without warning, she reached out and touched his cheek. Then she raised her hand to his forehead and left it there for a while before moving down his face to take his pulse. He had no choice but to sit still despite the supreme discomfort he had begun to feel.

"Your heart rate's elevated," she announced after a minute. "And you've been perspiring a bit. Either you're ill again or you've just had a bad dream. Considering you haven't fallen yet, I don't think you're in for another bout of the sickness, but I do think that there is something wrong." Her voice became very soft and she seemed to edge in closer. "Tell me."

"Why does it matter, Granger? We're not friends. We're not anything except for enemies and unlucky coworkers. Maybe you should just mind your own business."

He heard her sharp intake of breath as she moved away from him. "You're right," she replied crossly. "We don't mean anything to each other. I shouldn't force you to talk to me. I apologize for thinking we could be normal with each other for once in our lives."

Her irritation was practically tangible. Draco sighed and ran his hand through his hair once, wondering what he was about to get himself into. He didn't know why he felt like he had to humor her, but for some reason, he didn't have the strength of mind to antagonize her anymore in one night.

"I, er...I did have a bad dream."

This was met by silence. He took it as a sign to continue.

"I remembered something awful from my childhood."

"What brought it on? What made you think of it?" she asked curiously.

He sighed again and questioned his level of sanity. "It was...something you said, I think."

_That's right, Draco. Way to sound like a fucking sensitive prick from a two-pence melodrama. Why don't you just offer to bathe her in your waterfall of tears already?_

She scooted closer to him. "What? Something I said?"

_This was a really bad idea. _

"Er, yeah. You know what, let's just forget I said anything. I don't want to have to sit here and listen to you yell at me for the next thirty minutes if I say anything wrong, which is very likely." His voice sounded odd, even to his own ears.

He could feel her back at his side. "No, you have to tell me," she demanded. "I need to know." When he didn't reply, he heard her exhale slowly and imagined the cogs in her brain whirring in action. "Oh no," she said finally. "Was it the thing I said about you being born and making my life hell?"

_Oh yeah, go ahead and say it again in the exact same order so that I can relive the awesome experience of being told that my existence spells disaster. _

He made a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat, mentally begging for someone to find them at that instant.

"Malfoy..."

Draco felt a warm hand cover his own and almost flinched. What was it with this woman and physical contact? What disturbed him the most, however, was that he didn't exactly dislike the feeling at all.

_Yup, Draco, my boy, you need to get laid. And this is no time to be choosy – just pick anything with estrogen coursing through its body and have at it. We must have you back in a sensible state of mind at any cost before you wreak more havoc._

"Malfoy, I...I didn't mean that. It was just something I said out of childish anger. I shouldn't have said that."

Still entirely too aware of her hand, he asked in bewilderment, "Are you actually apologizing? To me?"

Her hand shifted slightly, but for any number of unexplainable reasons, she did not remove it. "I know, I know, I'm shocked as well. But I guess for the first time, you deserve an apology from me. Malice has its limits, and I paid no heed to the lines that I crossed when I said that to you. I guess...I guess I just didn't think you had regular feelings like the rest of us." She sounded almost ashamed as she said it.

He stared blindly at the ground in front of him, wishing for a light so that he could see her face as she fought to humble herself in front of him, her most hated foe.

_But I don't owe her any kindness._

"Yeah, I'm human just like everybody else, Granger. It's a stupefying concept, isn't it?" he remarked harshly.

Her fingers curled around his hand as she softly said, "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I should know better. I'm supposed to be a mature adult, a role model for our generation. Yet here I am, firing insults at a man who, for all I know, has changed in some small way."

_How did we get to this? How did Granger end up saying sorry to me? Am I actually hallucinating?_

"Why are you doing this, Granger? Why are you being so..." He could find no adequate word to fill in the blank.

She sighed so close to his ear, he felt a few locks of his hair sway against his temple. He waited for her to answer him, but she sat there quietly, either unwilling or unable to offer him a response. At long last, after a span of hundreds of heartbeats, she spoke.

"I'm doing this because I think you deserve a second chance, Malfoy. I'm doing this because...maybe there's more to you than I thought. Maybe you're not the man I thought you were."

...

**Hi, everyone!** Sorry if the long chapter annoyed you, but I kind of felt like spewing it all out today, so this is the result of my musings. As always, please, please, PLEASE leave me reviews so that I can get your invaluable feedback! I really appreciate it when people take the time to give me a piece of their minds, and I welcome all criticism and praise (the latter slightly more so, hehe!) Again, love to all my dedicated readers who intend on sticking through with this story. You guys keep the dynamite in my soul alive. ;)

**Review!** (And if possible, spread the word about my story if you like it. It would mean a lot to me!)


	10. Chapter 10

**Official Chapter Dedication: Tom's Riddles **for her glowing review, and for telling me that she's beginning to work on her own fanfic! Best of luck to you, love – I'm sure your story will be awesome!

Millionaire Blues

Hermione marveled at her own audacity as she rested her hand on top of Malfoy's. She felt a weak form of adrenaline pumping through her body and was grateful for the inky blackness that covered her intense embarrassment. However, her troubled mind refused to calm down, dwelling instead on the fact that she had probably just mortally offended her sole companion for the next god-knew-how-many hours.

_That was a low blow, 'Mione. No matter how abhorrent he's been to you in the past, you should not have said something so inexcusable. Merlin knows what your cruelty forced him to remember...if you're not going to think from the psychological point of view, then at least consider the human aspect!_

She swallowed to clear the lump of nervousness from her throat to crack the silence. "Er...did I say something wrong?" He had not opened his mouth after her final statement.

Malfoy retracted his hand, and Hermione found herself wishing for him to put it back. The cold granite floor was not nearly as pleasant. She brought her knees close to her chest and folded her arms on top of them – it seemed like he was in no mood to talk.

_This is the first time I've ever seen him so reserved._

"It's just strange, Granger," he sighed finally. "I'm not used to being like this with anyone, much less someone like you. It's hard to digest that you just apologized to me."

"Well, would you rather I unleash my acid tongue and rapier wit once more?" she asked with a small smile.

He hesitated. "...No. I guess this is a nice change. Believe it or not, I don't exactly enjoy dodging your talons every second I'm around you."

_It's not my bloody fault you force me to be that way._

"Can I ask you something, Malfoy?" It was so much easier to be brave in the dark with no light to expose your fears or misgivings.

"Sure."

"Did you...I mean, have you ever..."

"Have I ever snogged a girl? Why, I have, in fact. Would you like a demonstration?"

She could practically see him leering in her direction and rolled her eyes. "No, shut up, that's not it."

"House-elf got your tongue, Granger?"

She reflexively stuck out her tongue at him, a habit she'd retained since childhood, before inhaling deeply and trying again: "What I was trying to ask was, did you ever consider the possibility that we could be friends?"

He made a weird noise, probably trying to gauge whether or not she had a screw loose. "Huh? Friends? You mean, like...friends?"

"Oh, yes, very astute, Malfoy," she replied sarcastically. "When I say 'friends,' I do indeed mean 'friends,' as incredible as it may seem. I don't mean 'two people who value nothing in each other apart from carnal benefits.'"

"Are you propositioning me right now, Granger?"

Color flooded her cheeks as disturbing mental images suddenly bombarded her brain. "What! No!"

"No need to throw a hissy fit. It was just an unexpected question, the friend thing."

She chose not to comment, hoping he would use this opportunity to answer her last question. Once again, he complied.

"Friends, you say," he mused. "I don't think I ever thought of it that way."

Hermione failed to erase the disappointment from her voice as she mumbled, "Right. Of course you didn't. Stupid question."

"What, did you expect me to say yes?" he scoffed. "You know very well that our families hail from completely incompatible backgrounds. Friendship between you and me was a laughable concept. If my father or any one of his cronies had gotten a whiff of such a development, Dumbledore would be scraping our bodies off the road before the Sorting had even started!"

"You used past tense," she whispered. Her arms anchored her knees tightly to her torso. She squeezed tighter as she felt a certain overwhelming emotion consume her from the inside.

"What?"

"You used past tense when you said that our friendship was a laughable concept."

His words began spilling forth like water bursting from behind a dam. "Tell me something, Granger, do you actually _want _to be friends with me?" She imagined him to be sitting straight up with his forehead wrinkled as he said this.

"Would that be wrong?" she continued to whisper.

"Wrong! What are you saying? Are you even listening to yourself? You hate me, goddamnit!"

She didn't know why, but she could feel tears burning in her eyes. The damned lump had returned to clog her throat, and at that moment, Hermione hated him for wielding such power to weaken her resolve.

_Why am I crying? What the bloody hell is wrong with me? Why is he having this effect on me?_

She struggled to resist the urge to sniffle, but in the end, that treacherous little sound made it to his ears.

_Damn it._

"Granger, are you crying?" She almost released a watery laugh at the shock she heard in his voice.

_No. What are you talking about? Lay off the drugs, Malfoy. Those magic mushrooms will screw you over if you don't watch out._

She vigorously pawed at her face in an attempt to clear off the traitorous tears. "N-no," she protested in a quavering voice. "Of course not."

There was a sound of movement, and then his fingers were gently probing at her cheek. He felt the moisture on her skin and then drew back his hand. She didn't dare breathe; if she breathed, it would mean that she was still alive and that this was all very real.

Malfoy noted with astonishment, "You _are _crying!"

"Sh-shut up, you idiot! Who's bloody crying?"

"Granger, you're scaring me."

"Ha!" she hiccuped. "Draco Malfoy (hic) scared of a poor, defenseless witch (hic) like me? You've lost it!"

_Stop crying, you nitwit. STOP CRYING!_

But it was useless. You'd think she'd unleashed the bloody Thames from her face. She sat there on her aching backside, cursing herself for being so foolish and subjecting Malfoy to her histrionics. She held her breath for ten seconds and then let out a small sigh of relief. At least the hiccups had stopped.

"It's not your time of month, is it?" he inquired unabashedly. Hermione nearly choked on her own spit at the outrageous question.

"Excuse me? I'll have you know that this is exactly the sort of male chauvinism that woman hate the most, the idea that the only justification for a girl's bad mood must be her freaking menstrual cycle as opposed to, oh, I don't know, human _emotions_, perhaps!"

"Calm your knickers, Granger. I was joking."

Hermione irritably blew some hair out of her face with an angry huff. She hadn't meant to launch into such a diatribe, but really? If she had a Sickle for every time a man attributed a woman's feelings to PMS, she'd be a bloody duchess by now.

"Hey, Granger?" Malfoy asked abruptly in a quiet voice. "Why would you want to be friends with me?"

Hermione buried her face in her arms, causing her answer to be muffled. "Because I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of sparring with you like this. I don't have the energy anymore."

Another awkward silence ensued.

_God, just say something, Malfoy. Don't make this anymore painful than it already is._

"And you think we could be...friends?" The word seemed to be difficult for him to say. "Despite the fact that we can't go more than ten minutes without baring our teeth at each other?"

Damn, but her head was really beginning to hurt. "I mean, yeah, I suppose. It's radical, but..."

"It's an era of reconciliation," he finished for her flatly.

"I guess you could say that."

He exhaled, surely planning to dash her thoughts to bits with one vicious insult. She braced herself for the inevitable attack. It had been ludicrous to think that he would bother to take her up on her offer. Burying the hatchet was certainly not in his plan of action, and it was far more likely that he'd prefer to see the hatchet firmly embedded in her skull.

"Let me think about it," he murmured.

It was her turn to ask that most common of questions: "What?"

"I said, let me think about it. This is entirely new territory for me, Granger. I don't know what it is about a dank supply closet that made you extend an olive branch my way, but in any case, I'm a bit disoriented right now. And of course, there's also the risk that you just have an ulterior motive, and that's why you're putting on a charade to throw me off guard."

Hermione began indignantly, "I don't-"

"Wait!" he exclaimed suddenly. In a flash, his hand covered her mouth and she could feel the tip of his tie dangling on her nose as he leaned over her to press his ear against the door.

"Wumph bhew eer?"

_Ah, as articulate as ever, my dear. Who could refuse friendship from as charming a creature as yourself?_

"I thought I heard some voices," he whispered urgently.

She tore his hand away from her and scrambled up to flatten her own ear against the door. Sure enough, a cluster of babbling voices seemed to be getting closer.

"Hey!" she began shouting as her fists of fury emerged once more. "We're in here! Over here!"

Not long after Malfoy had joined in on the yelling, the door flew open and both Hermione and Malfoy nearly tumbled to the ground in their haste to escape. As she hurtled forward, Hermione turned towards Malfoy and saw that his clothes were slightly rumpled and his cheeks were tinged pink.

_Whereas I probably look like a wounded raccoon._

Mei Lin quickly turned to the waiter who had accompanied them and said with a smile, "Thank you for your assistance. Please excuse us for a moment."

Hermione took this chance to try to fix her disheveled appearance, but Eric did not waste a second in rushing to her side. He held her firmly by her forearms and peered into her face. "Are you all right?" he asked worriedly. "What the bloody hell did that wanker do to you?" He glared at Malfoy menacingly who coolly stared back over Mei Lin's shoulder.

"I'm fine, Eric. Nothing's wrong."

He looked down at her again, those hazel eyes closely examining her current disaster of a countenance. "But then, why do you look so...out of sorts?"

_Yup, that confirms it. I definitely resemble one of the undead._

Hermione blinked up at him and managed a half-hearted smile. "I'm fine," she reassured him. "Really, there's nothing wrong." She watched as his expression changed from one of anxiety to...guilt? In the next second, he had dropped his hands from her arms and shoved them into his pockets, his cheeks red and his brow furrowed. Hermione stared at him, nonplussed, as he scowled down at the rug and muttered something to himself.

At this point, Mei Lin scurried over with Malfoy in tow. Hermione remembered the feeling of a certain someone's hand in hers and swiftly averted her eyes from a pair of silver ones.

"Oh, Miss Granger!" the pretty girl cried out in dismay as she absorbed Hermione's blotchy complexion and mussed hair. "You look absolutely dreadful! What happened?"

"Yes, I'd like to know that myself," Eric growled as he directly faced Malfoy. It seemed like his bizarre behavior had ended, and his hands now lay threateningly by his sides with the fingers splayed out rigidly.

"It was nothing, you guys," Hermione repeated, desperately hoping to avoid a second version of the nightclub fiasco.

Suddenly, Mei Lin darted up to Hermione and drew her close, whispering, "Miss Granger, there is something of utmost importance that I must tell you."

Hermione pulled back and stared at the other woman in confusion. Behind Mei Lin, the two men stood frozen, glaring at each other with mutual, unbridled hatred. "Important? Why, what is it?"

Mei Lin shook her head and solemnly replied, "No, it is not something I can speak of here. We must discuss this alone somewhere, woman to woman. All I can say now is that while I was waiting for you, I realized that-"

A menacing voice cut across Mei Lin's words and distracted Hermione from whatever it was the woman had been about to say. Eric hovered close to Malfoy and spat, "Why don't you just drag your pureblooded ass back to the gilded hovel you crawled out of?"

"Watch yourself, Crawford," Malfoy drawled. The flush had entirely receded from his skin, and his steely eyes were narrowed with suppressed fury. "We don't want to have to crack any skulls, now do we?"

Eric laughed scornfully and took a step forward. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe that it was _your_ skull that got the cracking last time."

"All the more reason, cupcake, for you to back off while you still have a chance. Of course, I'd like nothing better than to plant my fist in your face, but I'd like to avoid contamination, so..."

Enraged, Eric started forward with his arms already beginning to swing and cried, "You effing son of a-"

"STOP!" Hermione shrieked as she firmly stepped in between the two fools. Her eyes flashed from Eric to Malfoy, both of whom remained in their fighting stances. "Didn't you hear me? Back off. Now."

"I don't think you quite understand," Eric said through gritted teeth. "This bastard's had this coming to him for a while now."

"Save your threats for someone who cares," Malfoy sneered. "I'm not going to bother hurting you, but that's only because it's 'Be Kind to Animals' Week."

Hermione swiveled around with her hands on her hips and regarded Malfoy with an exhausted expression. "Really? Was that necessary?" She spun back around to address Eric who now had a number of veins bulging in his forehead, throat, and arms. "Eric," she cajoled gently. "Let it go. It's not worth it. Let's just go home."

After emitting a sound of disgust, Eric allowed Hermione to lead him away, and the pair hurriedly crossed through the busy restaurant until they were back outside. Hermione glanced over her shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the other two were nowhere to be seen. The air outside was cool and pleasant, but unfortunately her companion refused to change his stony demeanor.

"I'm sorry, Eric."

That shook him out of his sullen musings. "Sorry? What for?"

She shrugged and smoothed down the front of her dress with her hands. "I managed to ruin our first date. I feel awful knowing how much you must have prepared for this."

He looked pained as she said this, and ran his fingers through his hair with guilt written all over his face. "Hermione, you know...it shouldn't be you apologizing. It should be me."

"You? What on earth for? You didn't do anything wrong!"

He tugged at his collar and coughed. His body language indicated that he was extremely uncomfortable, but for the love of Merlin, Hermione had no idea why. He seemed to be debating something in his head, but then cleared his throat and pulled out his car keys from his pocket.

"Er, here," he suggested. "Why don't we talk as I drop you off the Muggle way?"

They strolled over to his impressive sports car and sat on the luxurious seats; once both seat belts had been fastened, Eric smoothly turned out of the parking lot and drove into the highway. Hermione glanced at him from time to time as he silently steered, wondering when he was going to say something, and soon realized that she would have to be the one to open a new conversation.

"So, erm, about that thing you were saying before..."

His hands immediately tightened on the steering wheel. "Oh, right."

"What were you apologizing for?"

"I've been meaning to tell you something. Something I should have said a long time ago."

The night sky was peppered with stars, but dark clouds loomed overhead and gradually obscured the twinkling dots. Hermione chose not to respond quickly, and instead let her eyes roam around to observe the flashing lights and nocturnal crowds that emerged in the urban world. "Does it deal with something dangerous?" she asked finally.

He chuckled humorlessly with his eyes fixated on the car in front of him. "No, I wish. It's more of a...a personal confession, if anything."

She gazed at him expectantly and nodded. "Go ahead."

He opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and then exhaled in disappointment. "No, damn it," he said as he shook his head. "I can't do it. I can't do it right now."

Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder and felt his muscles tense under her palm. "Eric," she said softly. "You don't have to confess anything if you don't want to. I don't expect you to pour your heart and soul out for me yet, considering this is just our first date. So don't get hung up on it, all right? You can tell me when you're ready."

He seemed to be practically on the verge of tears as he grappled with the air-conditioning dials. "No, you don't understand. I need to get this over with. I just...I just can't..."

"Shhhh," she murmured. "Like I said, you don't have to say anything now. We have time. You can tell me later."

By that time, they had arrived at her apartment complex, and Hermione stepped out of the car and waited for Eric to join her. He approached her with his head bowed and said, "I guess this is good night."

She smiled at him encouragingly. "Yes, it is. I had a good time."

He shrugged. "It could have been better," he remarked sourly, "if it hadn't been for a certain spoiled brat who managed to ruin yet another perfectly civil occasion."

Something inside Hermione reared up at this comment, and she bit back the defensive retort that danced on her tongue.

_Blimey, now I'm getting defensive about the bloke? I need to make sure I didn't inhale any paint fumes while I was inside that locked room!_

"Malfoy will come around someday," she said neutrally. "He's not all bad. He just needs someone to guide him from time to time, I suppose."

Eric raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Are you actually backing up that blighter? After all he's said and done to you?"

Hermione tossed her hair over one shoulder and bit her lip. "It's not really that he's a foul little cockroach all the time, Eric. He, er, can be quite normal if he thinks no one's watching."

"And I suppose you gathered all this from the quality time you spent together in that black hole of a closet?" he inquired snidely.

_Calm down, Hermione. He's got every right to be rude about the man who nearly busted him up the first time he ever met him._

"Partially, yes," she answered solemnly. "You'd be surprised how some people act in public as opposed to private."

_A prime example would be myself, of course, because you see...I go around violating my rival's personal space whenever I find myself entrapped in black holes at the backs of restaurants._

Eric coughed again and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Er, yes," he agreed. "People do act very different when they, er, are not in public."

"Well, it's late," Hermione said as she stifled a yawn behind her hand. "I've had a long day, and I have to slave through a stack of textbooks in the morning before I leave for work."

"Oh, um, yeah, you should go then." His charm had morphed into sheepish disquiet since the semi-enjoyable dinner. "I should also be heading for home."

Hermione took a step forward and tilted her face upwards. "Good night, Eric," she said softly as she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

He jerked back and grabbed hold of her hand with his. "Er, yes," he babbled as she stared at him, stung. "Thank you for everything tonight, Hermione. You looked absolutely splendid and I really had a fine time. The food was delicious, and the ambiance of the place was superb. I had a fine time, a fine time indeed." He supplemented his words by forcefully patting her hand and shaking it, basically treating her like a newly formed acquaintance or some intolerable great-aunt.

Without further ado, he released her hand, threw himself into the driver's seat, and tore off in a hurry. He'd accelerated so abruptly, his tires had left black burn marks on the road.

Hermione just stood there and blankly stared at the road in front of her, haltingly attempting to register what had just happened.

An elderly woman who'd been walking her dog nearby approached Hermione under the streetlight and patted her kindly on the back. She then extracted the cigarette wedged between her lips, tossed it to the ground, and mashed it with her foot, using Hermione as a support to lean on for balance.

When she was satisfied with the pile of ashes underfoot, the old woman began walking away and called over her shoulder, "My condolences, sweetheart. Rejection's a bitch."

…

When Draco woke up the next morning, he felt utterly drained. The night had passed fitfully, and all he'd managed to do for about seven hours straight was toss and turn on his sheets until his bed resembled a remnant of a shipwreck. But it wasn't his fault, damn it! How was he supposed to lie in peaceful slumber after what that...that woman had said to him back there? A certain part of his universe had crumbled when it became clear that his biggest rival wanted to patch things up, and he was sure that after _that _episode, things would never be quite the same again.

With a sigh, he wearily swung himself out of his bed and trudged over to where dark velvet curtains shielded his eyes from the merciless sunlight. Slowly drawing back the curtains, he gazed out through the giant bay windows at the rising sun steadily ascending amidst misty, dappled hills.

And that was when he saw it.

An enormous gray cloud speckled with browns, golds, and whites was quickly making its way over to him. Upon closer inspection, the mass turned out to be a flock of owls, each one saddled with a cream-colored envelope. Draco hastily threw open his balcony doors and watched as owl after owl swooped into his room and deposited its cargo before making an about-face and soaring straight out. However, there were a few little buggers that took the liberty of nipping at Draco's earlobes and fingers, despite his attempts to swat them away.

When the scourge had departed, Draco plopped down on the carpet and reached for a letter at the top of the formidable pile. The instant he opened it, he was engulfed by a burst of sweet-smelling powder, and he struggled to read the contents with watering eyes:

_Dearest Mr. Malfoy,_

_You are, without fail, an absolute god. You are the embodiment of the perfect man, and you drive this point home every time you expose your angelic face to the public. I worship the ground that you walk on, and do hope that someday I get the chance to encounter you in all your divine glory._

_Your most ardent devotee,_

_Patricia Hopkirk_

_P.S. My aunt's name is Mafalda Hopkirk – she works at the Ministry as a chief officer. Perhaps I could have her arrange a little meeting for us?_

Draco stared down at the parchment in disbelief before flinging it aside and snatching another one. This time, after he gingerly opened the envelope, something fell into his lap. He picked up the object and saw with abject horror that it was an extra large condom! He hurled the condom away with all his strength and hazarded a glance at what was sure to be a sickening message:

_DRACO MALFOY MARRY ME I WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN I WANT TO BE THE VESSEL OF YOUR OFFSPRING I WANT TO BE THE MOTHER OF YOUR SPAWN JUST TAKE ME I BEG OF YOU_

_I AM UNCONDITIONALLY, IRREVOCABLY, IMPENETRABLY, HETEROGENOUSLY, DISREPUTABLY, AND GYNECOLOGICALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU!_

_VELMA CARTWRIGHT XOXOXO_

Draco shuddered and tossed that aside as well before reaching out for a bright red envelope. He had hardly brushed it with his fingers when it flew up ten feet and morphed into the shape of a pair of lips.

_Oh, for the love of Salazar._

"Mr. Malfoy!" the Howler screeched. "We, the undersigned members of the Witches for Feminism Society, hereby declare that you, sir, are a most abominable creature who is a detriment to the welfare of young witches everywhere! Your blatant disregard for feminine principles and undisguised contempt for the modern woman's portrayal in society has been highlighted yet again, and you can rest assured that not a single person in our group will ever stoop to purchase your company's products! We earnestly wish that you see reason and post a public apology as soon as possible for your immoral actions. Signed, Theresa Knight, Jane Harris, and Cornelia Fitt."

And with that, there was a small explosion, causing the rancid epistle to dissolve at his feet. Draco sat there, motionless and mightily perplexed.

_What could I have done that's pissed them off so much? I didn't recognize those names, so I don't think I've slept with any of them..._

Sure, he got his fair share of fan mail on a weekly basis, but what had he done now to warrant such an inundation? Not only that, but this wasn't even all fan mail – apparently he was on the receiving end of hate mail as well.

_And for fuck's sake, what on earth did I ever do to the fucking "Witches for Feminism Society?"_

As he pondered all this, Blaise's handsome owl rocketed in like a missile and dropped off a note covered with Blaise's "emergency scrawl." It read:

_Hurry up and get to the office. I'll talk to you there and explain everything._

_B_

Releasing a potent string of curses that did nothing to alleviate his sour morning mood, Draco performed a few fast grooming charms, threw on whatever clothes his hands found first, and stalked into the fireplace with a bundle of letters clutched in his hands. A minute later, he was striding down the short aisle that connected his office to Blaise's and stormed through the heavy double doors only to find someone else already giving Zabini an earful.

"What is the meaning of this?" Granger cried as she waved two fistfuls of letters in Blaise's face. "Why am I suddenly on the hit list of every bloody female in England?"

Her hair, Draco noted with amusement, seemed to crackle with electricity, and he truthfully could not blame his friend for discreetly backing away as if faced with a ticking time-bomb.

He ambled over to Blaise's desk next to the irate woman. "I'm in the same boat, Granger, except in my case, there's more nauseating adoration than anything else." He studied the dark circles under her eyes and thought that her haggard appearance probably mirrored his own. "Rough night?" he grunted.

She replied in a clipped tone, "Yes, my day started at around four o'clock this morning. I thought I'd get some studying in until _these _despicable things flew in."

Draco nodded, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Blaise about to blow a fuse from elation at the fact that he and Granger had undergone a nonviolent verbal exchange. "So," Draco began grimly, "would you care to explain the situation, mate?"

Blaise cleared his throat and gestured towards the two comfy armchairs that faced him. "Why don't you both have a seat?"

The two immediately complied and perched on the edges of their chairs. Draco couldn't speak for Granger, but he knew that he wasn't leaving before Zabini had given a satisfactory answer.

Blaise sighed. "So, about these letters. As you're both aware, we had conducted a photo shoot earlier this week, and Foxworth wanted to release photos as soon as possible. Yesterday, a small team including myself compiled a compact portfolio of what we considered the best shots, and we sent the package to Foxworth who blew them up for billboards in various locations."

Granger stared at him incredulously. "What you're saying," she said slowly, "is that right now, as we speak, there are billboards with me and Malfoy plastered all over them?"

"That's right," Blaise said laconically.

Draco shot up from his chair and slammed his hands down on the desk, causing Blaise's paperweights to wobble. "You mean to tell me you proceeded to work on the ads in my absence?"

"It was necessary under the circumstances," Blaise said. "Besides, you're never interested, nor can I trust you to judge anything objectively. You'd probably have been more of a hindrance than anything else."

Draco reached for a nearby paperweight, ready to chuck the thing at Blaise's big, stupid face, when a small hand reached up and tugged lightly on his shirt. Without turning her head to look at him, Granger muttered, "Sit down and be rational, Malfoy. Bashing his head in won't get you anything other than a blood-soiled shirt and a fun-filled stay in Azkaban."

Fuming, Draco reluctantly withdrew his hand and sat back down.

"My, you've certainly tamed the beast, haven't you?" Blaise observed wryly. "Usually when I try to coax Drake into doing something, he makes some derogatory comments about my mother's apparent chest hair and then ends the discussion."

Draco made to dart out of his chair again, but Granger firmly held him down by planting her hand on his knee. He glared at a picture frame ahead and tried to ignore the heat from her palm seeping through the fabric of his pants.

_Focus, damn it!_

In a composed manner, Granger said, "I have no interest in taming anyone. I'm far more concerned with the fact that I am facing an onslaught of furious feedback from women demanding to know where I got the idea that I was an equal of Draco Malfoy!"

Curious, Draco leaned forward to grab a few wayward letters that were lying in front of Granger. She started to rip them out of his grasp, but he reflexively jerked away from her and began reading delightedly.

"Look at this!" he crowed. "'Ms. Granger, you are a cow! Just because you helped vanquish You-Know-Who, you think you can snag the hottest man alive? Screw you!'" He flipped to another sheet of parchment. "'Hermione Granger, you do not deserve to have your paws all over Merlin's own personal masterpiece! You are not pretty enough for him, nor are you his type!' Ha! As if this bint knows what my type is." A crisp page of stationery peeked out from behind similarly worded messages, and Draco read:

_Miss Granger,_

_I find it my duty to inform you that you have far overstepped your boundaries and have entered dangerous territory indeed. Despite the fact that much of the wizarding community has recently undergone a myriad of changes, there is still an intrinsic hierarchy that must be maintained. Remember that you are not one of us, and that it will not bode well for you if you taint Draco's pure heritage with your besmirched background. As such, I have already contacted Blaise Zabini about canceling these advertisements and am awaiting his response this very moment. I doubt I will have to sully myself by contacting you again. _

_Signed, _

_Pansy Parkinson_

Draco's eyes widened as he stared down at the flowery signature and ornate Parkinson family emblem stamped at the bottom of the letter. "Parkinson?" he sputtered. "What the hell is Parkinson doing, writing this sort of shit?"

Blaise neatly plucked the letter out of Draco's hand and read the damned thing for himself. When he finished, he gazed at Granger, appalled. She, however, stared ahead in stony silence, her hands folded resolutely in her lap.

"Hermione, I can assure you that-"

"I have no desire to allow the words of a pretentious pug dog to hurt me," she interjected crossly. "Why she even bothered at all is beyond me, but I certainly am not about to sob into my pillow every night because of her."

Draco held up the letter with two fingers as if he were dealing with a rotting animal corpse. "I find it hard to believe this is really Parkinson's handiwork," he said in disbelief. "I didn't know Parkinson was literate, much less that she's capable of using words like 'intrinsic' and 'besmirched.'"

"Be that as it may, Malfoy, her rant is not my primary concern." Her eyes flashed as she addressed Blaise. "Why didn't you warn me about this earlier? How long should I expect to be accosted like this?"

"I know I should have mentioned this possibility before," Blaise said regretfully. "I just forgot who we're really dealing with here. You both are celebrities in your own ways, and to pair you together..."

"So we're canceling these ads and working separately, I presume," Granger demanded as Blaise's voice trailed off.

The man looked stunned for a moment before he got to his feet and cried vehemently, "Bloody hell, of course not!"

"You want us to keep working together? Do you have a death wish, Zabini?" Draco inquired sardonically.

Blaise shook his head and loosened his tie. "No, look. We can't cease your shoots. Do you know, I've been checking our sales stats, and we've got sky-high numbers! If the trend continues, we'll be sold out in nearly three days! Women are going mad over this product, and it's all thanks to you two."

Granger made eye contact with Draco and gave him a crooked, sarcastic smile. "You hear that, Malfoy? We're a big hit! Why don't we just go ahead and tie the knot right now? That'll probably do wonders for your company – profits might even increase by three hundred percent!"

"Ooh, yes, let's!" Draco exclaimed as he clapped his hand in a show of glee. "I've got a man in Aruba who could help us out with the nuptials and honeymoon. Just say the word, darling, and I'm yours!"

_What the fuck did I just say?_

Blaise sighed and closed his eyes. "Okay, okay, you guys can drop the act. I must say, it's awfully refreshing to see you two on speaking terms. More than speaking terms, really, considering you're joking around at my expense..."

Draco and Granger yelled at the same time: "ZABINI, SHUT UP!"

Blaise raised his hands in defeat and laughed nervously. "All right, all right, calm down. Merlin, you both act like you've got sticks up your arses."

"It's not that there's something up my arse, it's more about who's the one doing the sticking," Draco offered sagely.

Granger wrinkled her nose in distaste at the mental picture he'd provided. "You really do have a remarkable talent for spewing the most absurd nonsense out of that mouth."

Blaise chose to ignore Draco and spoke to Granger. "About what you were asking before...listen, I can't do anything about the mail, so you'll just have to bear it for the time being. It's annoying and tiresome, I know, but like Parkinson, half the global female population wants to shag this idiot, so I've really got no say in the whole matter."

Granger raised an eyebrow as Draco preened at the backhanded compliment. "I have to just deal with every damn Howler and dangerous object that gets to my apartment? Is that what you're saying?"

"It'll be a pain," Blaise reasoned sympathetically. "But if you want, you can just toss the pieces of crap into the fire and watch them burn to ashes."

Granger scoffed but sank into her chair for the first time, a sign of acquiescence.

"Speaking of women, Draco, how was your date last night? Went swimmingly, I suppose?"

"It was a bloody pain in the neck. Next time, _you _can be the one to entertain our business partners' airhead daughters."

_Not that I spent more than a half-hour with her, but you don't need to know that._

Blaise let out a low whistle. "Wow, that bad, eh? Hey, Hermione," he said, now turning his head to Granger. "You went out too, right? How was it with Crawford?"

Granger forced a cough into her fist and avoided making eye contact with anyone. "Yes, er, it was fine. We had a good time."

"Charming. Oh, did you get a good night kiss? Word on the street is that young Crawford's a bit rusty when it comes to that stuff."

Her cheeks grew ruddy as she determinedly gazed down at her shoes, failing to notice that even Draco's interest had been piqued. "I don't see how that's any of your business," she mumbled.

"Hm, you're right, it's not," Blaise conceded. "Well, enough chit chat, lady and gent. We've all got work to do."

With that, he swiveled around and busied himself with a file cabinet, but not before shooting Draco a poorly disguised look of mirth. This left Draco and Granger to stalk out of the room side by side, both equally put out by the knowledge that thus began a long and difficult journey through heaps of public torment. As they paused out in the hallway, Draco turned to her and attempted to voice a thought that he'd been mulling over for a while.

"Listen, er, Granger," he said awkwardly. "Don't take what Parkinson – or any stupid woman for that matter – said seriously. Wenches like her have nothing better to do with their pitiful excuses for lives."

_Oh yeah, mmhmm, this is fucking perfection. You're really exuding that Malfoy pizzazz today, eh? Here's a thought: why don't you just give up your cushy office job and make a living writing fucking romance novels? The words that spill out from between your lips are sheer poetry! _

Granger burst into peals of uproarious laughter at this gallant declaration. While she was laughing and clutching at the wall for support, Draco found himself wanting to laugh too. Something about the way her face lit up like the dancing flame on a candle stirred him inside. The sounds ringing from her mouth were nothing short of infectious.

_Bugger it all, mate, snap out of it!_

"Malfoy," Granger said, breathless after straightening up. "Are you really giving me a pep talk?"

_Laugh at me, will you?_

"Did you really ask me to be friends with you?" he retorted as he crossed his arms over his chest.

That changed her expression in a heartbeat.

"I'm still not quite sure what happened back there," she mumbled abashedly. Draco almost didn't register what she'd said because he was suddenly distracted by the blush that suffused her cheeks.

"What's there not to be sure of?"

"I'm sorry, are you telling me you're accepting my offer?"

"No."

Was it just his imagination, or did she look crestfallen?

"You're right," she said, recovering quickly. "Can't have you tainting your pure heritage with me, right?"

A spark of anger flared up within him. "Don't put me in the same category as Parkinson, Granger. We are not the same!"

She waved a hand through the air and rolled her eyes. "Right, right. She has the vagina, and you're the one with the dangly thing between your legs. You're _definitely _not the same."

"You kiss your mummy with that mouth, Granger? I'm surprised she hasn't died of heart failure yet, considering the way your mouth shoots off. She must be ashamed that she has to call you her daughter!"

Granger turned pale as he said this and Draco could see her eyes growing moist. "Don't you dare," she hissed, "speak about my mother that way!"

_No. Why did I say that. It's like my words are programmed ahead of time. Bloody fucking hell, why did I say that?_

"I take it back, Malfoy," she spat venomously. "I can never be friends with you. You are undoubtedly the foulest creature to roam this planet, and I'd rather slice my arm off than join hands with you! You're never going to change. Never!"

Draco remained still as she charged past him, the staccato sounds of her heels erupting along the walls. He hadn't meant to hurt her like that. He didn't realize she'd blow up like this...

He wished he could take it all back.

He hadn't budged when she appeared again. She stood in front of him with her shoulders hunched over and shaking. Her hands trembled at her sides and her lips quivered as she tried to form words, tried to stave off the earthquake threatening to unleash itself within her. After a minute, she spoke in a voice that was so low and raspy, Draco had to lean in to hear her properly.

"There are many things I do not envy you for, Draco Malfoy," she choked. "I do not envy you your house, large and opulent as it may be, nor do I lust after your fame. I do not envy you for your wealth, your status, or your legacy because I know that I can be happy even without those things. But there is one thing I envy you for, Malfoy."

He found himself gazing into a pair of large, brown eyes drowning in tears as she fought to keep her voice from breaking.

"At least...at least you have a mother who can still recognize you."

…

_*Kudos to you if you picked up on the Twilight reference in Draco's part of the story. Let me know in a review if you caught it, and the first one to tell me will earn the next chapter dedication! Here's a hint: it's a parody version of a famous Twilight quote - if you're still confused, try reading the backs of one of the books. ;)_

**Hello to one and all!** Here it is, chapter ten at last! Sorry for the delay, but I've been busy preparing for a big dance performance I have next Saturday, and there's been other stuff going on too.

As always, please take the time to review, put me on alert, favorite me, whatever! It makes me feel so warm and mushy inside, knowing that people actually look forward to reading this thing, haha.

One more thing: I read each and every review I get, so please don't think I'm blowing you off if I don't reply to your review! I appreciate every bit of feedback, good or bad! Ok, now I'll let you guys get on with your lives...see ya soon ^_^


	11. Chapter 11

**Official Chapter Dedication: _jkrowlingrox_ for her correct identification of my bit of Twilight humor in the last chapter. :)**

**CHAPTER 11 – Golden Memories, Silver Tears**

Hermione watched with self-loathing as a series of emotions flitted across Malfoy's aristocratic face. The last thing she wanted right now was to have this man stare down at her with pity. Just like before, she despised her pathetic vulnerability, her intrinsic eagerness to let him under her skin. Why did she have to go and overreact? Why couldn't she have just shot him a dirty look and have done with it? Why did he get to her so bloody easily?

She felt hot tears working their way past her eyelashes and hastily turned on her heel to stalk away furiously. A part of her hoped the dreadful creature would remain standing there, forever gawping in her direction like the troll he was. But another part, a small, practically negligible part of her, secretly wished the brute would come after her and _do _something to redeem himself in some way.

"Screw him," Hermione muttered darkly as she shoved her curls out of her face and threw open the front entrance doors. "Screw him to the fiery pits of hell. Screw Blaise for fucking hiring me at this hellhole. Screw Andi for forcing me into this shit in the first place, and screw HIM for fucking making me think he could be different!"

A little voice in her head meekly proposed that perhaps her ranting was getting a bit too irrational, but she shot down that voice almost immediately.

Winded from her restless pacing and venting, Hermione strode into a nearby garden area and threw herself onto a stone bench which carried, probably thanks to Blaise, the inscription "Live life and smile."

_Ha, more like "Eat shit and die."_

She buried her face in her hands and blinked back a few tears as she pictured her mother, her dear, sweet mother in her mind's eye.

There she was, the kinder, curvier version of her daughter, forever laughing at the newest household object she'd destroyed while waltzing from room to room with her equally blissful husband. As a toddler, Hermione would sit there on the living room sofa and watch with innocent, happy eyes as her parents swept across the floor, each performing a set of grandiose moves in time to big band music. Her mother would toss her fluffy brown hair and glance at her daughter from time to time with those soft brown eyes of her, always watchful, always wary of a sudden mood swing or a necessary diaper change. When the music would cease, her father would collapse onto the rug, breathless from gaiety and physical exertion, while her mother would advance with extended arms into which Hermione would launch herself. After years of immersing herself in motherly duties involving laundry detergent and dishwashing liquid, Hermione's mother had permanently acquired a faint scent of lemons, a fragrance that never failed to put Hermione's mind at peace.

What she wouldn't give now to hold her mother and smell those lemons again...

The sound of rustling grass tugged her out of the quicksand of her memories. Hermione lifted her head to see the devil himself gazing down at her with an unfathomable expression blanketing his features. He stood before her, gradually growing uneasy, and seemed to be shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

She glared at him and impatiently waited for the fool to say something, but Malfoy appeared to be in no hurry to grovel at her feet and beg for forgiveness. She made a sound of disgust and started to charge past him when his hand darted out and grabbed her wrist. Hermione stared down in disbelief at the long, pale fingers that encircled her wrist before heartily struggling to free herself from his strong (albeit painless) grip.

"Unhand me at once, Malfoy!" she snarled as she tried to use her other hand to pry his fingers off.

His fingers didn't budge a millimeter. "Granger-"

"I said, let go!" She raised her hand to deal a quick blow as she said this, but he was too nimble for her.

With a sigh, he wrapped his other hand around her fist, completely encasing it, and firmly steered her back toward the bench where she was forced to plop down gracelessly. Without relinquishing his hold, he deftly dodged the only kick she could manage with her dratted pencil skirt, and then pushed her against the bench until she could feel the coolness of the stone slowly permeating her blouse. He now loomed over her, wearing that same inscrutable expression as before, and showed no signs that he was even a little strained by her sorry attempts to fight him off.

She prepared herself to lash out at him with her high heels again, but as she subtly drew her foot back, he leaned in close so that his breath mingled with hers and peered into her eyes. "Granger? Can you stop fighting me for a second and just calm down?"

His breath was sweet and minty, and against her will, Hermione felt her muscles go slack at his words. He maintained his steady grip so that her hands were still up by her sides, and sighed again. Something was stirring in his silvery eyes...something along the lines of contrition.

_I'm not falling for his bullshit again._

"If you think," Hermione snarled as she glared into those dastardly eyes, "that you can just prance up to me and play your stupid mind games, then you can just take your pureblooded ass and march it straight b-"

And then, without a word, he pulled her towards him with a jerk and pressed her head to his chest. Hermione froze, stunned and utterly speechless, as she felt him hesitantly wrap his arms around her and lock her in place. With her ear planted firmly on his chest, she could even hear his heart beating steadily on, and this brought her attention to the fact that her own miserable piece of junk was about to burst straight through her ribs.

She tried opening her mouth a few times in an effort to say something, for Merlin's sake, but she found that absolutely nothing came to mind. Her body was all too aware of the solid mass of male flesh that clung to her, and approximately ten seconds had passed when she realized that her brain was screaming for him to do more, and that her hands were itching to trail upwards and touch his face, his hair, his...

"I'm sorry."

Her knees nearly gave out underneath her, but his hold on her was strong enough that she was in no danger of falling. But she slowly pulled out of his embrace and gazed up at him, aware that she looked as blank and starstruck as a besotted sixteen year old.

"Wha-what?"

His cheeks were as pink as she'd ever seen them, and he unconsciously tugged at his tie as he said, "I, er, well. Blaise talked to me after you, er, left. He told me about your mother." Here, he gave his tie a hard jerk and addressed the ground apologetically. "I...I had no idea. I really didn't." His tone became pleading. "You – you know I wouldn't have said that, don't you? I was just being stupid. If I had known..."

His voice trailed off and he averted his gaze as she continued to stare at him. When Hermione finally felt composed enough to speak normally, she asked in a monotone, "How much do you know?"

He glanced at her. "He said that after your father passed away, your mother's been seriously depressed, and that's why you've taken this job...that her medicines are very expensive."

"And what, that just struck a chord in you?" She couldn't help being so harsh. It was all fine and dandy that he knew her sob story, but it just...it just didn't seem right that Draco Malfoy gave one ounce of a shit about her family problems.

"What you said to me struck a chord."

Hermione frowned as she thought of her outburst about his at least having a mother who recognized him. She imagined her mother again, following her with her lifeless eyes, always treating her like an unwanted house guest. There was never a flicker of recognition, never a gasp of realization, never even a warm smile. The woman who had been her mother had been reduced to nothing but a shell of her former self. And even then, the shell was cracked, faded, and beyond repair.

With eyes swimming in tears again, Hermione bowed her head and asked in a trembling voice, "Why do you even care?"

She sat down on the bench and waited for him to answer. The second hand on his watch ticked away as neither person spoke. Finally, he sank down next to her and covered his face with his hands.

"I don't know," he mumbled.

More silence followed. Hermione watched as tear after tear plummeted off her cheeks into her skirt. Beside her, Malfoy was still as he watched the gurgling waters of a small fountain in the corner.

"Tell me about her," he said suddenly.

She turned to him in surprise. "You mean, my mother?"

He nodded and continued to watch the fountain.

She let out a slow breath as she registered his bizarre request. "Well," she began reluctantly, "She has a degree in psychology. Her favorite color is orange. She had a peculiar habit of tugging at her earlobes whenever she was worried about something."

Her eyes misted over with the bittersweet fog of nostalgia, and her voice broke as bits and pieces of her mother's spirit twinkled in the dark corners of her mind. "Everything about her was soft, except for her laugh...her laugh was raw and raucous and completely free. She would dance around the house like a madwoman, and she never bothered with what other people thought; she marched to her own drum. She was beautiful in the way that the stars are beautiful: she was timeless, pure, and lovely." Her shoulders began to shake as each memory stabbed her heart. "She – she is my oldest friend."

She covered her eyes with one hand and wept quietly. Her pain was the pain of forgotten affection. To think that her own mother had lost every vestige of her life apart from a single tragedy...it was unbearable. Not for the first time, Hermione cursed fate for being capable of such destruction.

After a while, she wiped the wetness off her face with the back of her hand and shakily exhaled. "Are you satisfied now?"

He reached over and tentatively let his hand rest next to her. "She sounds wonderful."

She shook her head woefully and bit her lip. "God, Malfoy, if only I could have her back the way she was. I would ask for nothing else in life. Nothing else." She inadvertently glanced sideways at his hand by hers.

A gentle breeze turned the air fragrant with the scent of flowers, and Hermione breathed in deeply. With a rueful laugh, she murmured, "She used to love gardens like this."

"What kind of flowers does she like?"

"Flowers?" Hermione thought back to days when she would wander through mounds of dirt and weeds to find her mother eagerly thrusting plant after plant into the deep brown soil. Her mother had always preferred one flower over the other. "Primroses," she answered finally. "She loved primroses."

He nodded in response, and Hermione found herself staring at him with unchecked abandon. His decorous, concerned behavior was unsettling to say the least. When he questioned her, he sounded genuinely interested, as if her life actually mattered to him. When he spoke now, there was none of that scathing sarcasm or underlying current of acid. And when he looked at her like that...she thought she could spill her heart and soul out to him without a moment's hesitation.

"Granger."

"Yes?"

"Don't be like this."

She wrinkled her brow in confusion. "What? Like what?"

He gestured towards her with a vague wave of his hand and shrugged. "Just, you know, _this. _Don't be sad." He flushed a faint shade of pink again. "It doesn't suit you."

Having been caught off-guard, Hermione found it difficult to respond to this, and instead busied herself with the hem of her skirt. "It's easy to say that, Malfoy," she said after clearing her throat. "But you can't just tell someone to be happy all the time."

"Why not?"

She stared at him in bemusement. "What do you mean, why not? It's impossible to dictate someone's happiness!"

"Is it really?" he replied calmly. "Happiness isn't just a state of mind, Granger, it's a way of life. You are what you feel. If you surround yourself with things that you like, then happiness just becomes that much more attainable. We are only sad when we get bogged down by certain things and allow them to take over our lives."

"So you're saying I should just forget about my mother and go live amidst bloody pixies?" she retorted.

"No, I'm saying you should take care not to let gloom infiltrate your life."

"Oh? And how do you propose I do that, oh Lord of Sunshine and Unicorns?"

He gently placed his hand on hers and leaned in close. The perfume of flowers was driven out by the crisp smell of mint once more. He tilted his head and moved forward even more, approaching her so closely that hardly a few inches remained between them. His eyes darted back and forth from her own to her lips, and Hermione stiffened like a rod when she considered, for one crazy moment, that he might actually do what her brain was slyly suggesting.

Once she saw him briefly lick his lips, she closed her eyes and prepared for the inevitable. Her pulse rocketed out of the norm as she automatically parted her lips for him ever so slightly, and she thought her spine might solidify in a permanently upright position, so tense was she.

His breath caressed her cheek, and she squeezed her knees together in anticipation. And then, his mouth moved near her ear and he whispered lightly, "Just...relax, Granger."

With that, he backed off and withdrew his hand. His gaze was heavy with amusement at her expense and something darker, something intense. She watched him traipse away with sheer embarrassment threatening to shut down every part of her body, a body which was now battling fiercely to rid itself of its ridiculous desires. Her nerves were on edge, her throat had run dry, and now her fingers shook as she reached up to graze her still-parted lips, unable to think of anything but that almost-kiss.

But he hadn't kissed her, had he? Oh, but she was a right fool! She'd played into his hands exactly as he'd planned, and now the incorrigible man was probably celebrating his victory with shots of Firewhiskey and a cake to boot!

Hermione fled from the garden and out the front gates in order to Apparate. When she found herself in front of her beloved apartment, she dashed through the door, tore off her clothes, and threw herself into the shower to torture herself with a shower of icy water. As the sharp sensation of goosebumps and total discomfort pierced her mental haze, Hermione slapped her palm against the wall and groaned.

_How could I have been so stupid? Merlin, I acted like a desperate slag! Think, 'Mione, think: why the bloody hell would Malfoy want to kiss you? Didn't it occur to your joke of a brain that maybe he was just toying around with you?_

But another voice bravely decided to speak for the opposition.

_Ah, but the way he took you in his arms...and the way he apologized and asked about your mother. Do you think all of that was based on ulterior motives?_

Hermione turned the knob in front of her to shut off the water and shivered as her hair, weighted and dark, swung in her face like a pendulum.

_I don't know._

A few hours later, she was cozily nestled under thick covers with her wand serving as a reading light beside an enormous work entitled, "Basic Clinical Practice: Physical and Psychological Points to Consider." She had already decided that she had no burning urge to return to work that day, and highly doubted that the entire company would collapse if she chose to take a small break. Thus, she trained her eyes on the small print before her in hopes of absorbing even a modicum of information.

She should have known better.

Every bloody sentence seemed to bear some sort of connection to Malfoy. Every damn one!

"_During your rounds, you must carefully listen to each patient's respiration in order to pinpoint any underlying problems beforehand..."_

_It's like I forget to breathe every time he nears me. I try to force the air out of my lungs but I can't manage to- _

She gave a violent shake of her head. "Shut up, Hermione!"

"_While palpating an area on the patient's body, be sure to press firmly yet gently with the fingertips as this will suit tender regions and unearth any unseen anomalies."_

_It feels like an electric shock every time he brushes me with those long fingers of his. His palms are like fire when he lays his hand on mine; the heat feels so unexpected each time - _

"Shut up and focus, goddamnit!" She'd try again. She knew she was better than this. She knew she had more self-control, more discipline, greater powers of concentration. She wasn't about to succumb to her twisted fantasies. They didn't call her the smartest witch of her time for nothing.

...right?

To ensure that absolutely nothing would distract her, she rapidly flipped to an innocuous part of the lesson regarding "Washroom Policies." She had hardly read more than two sentences about urine samples when she absentmindedly thought: _Hmm, I wonder how big his -_

With a supremely frustrated shriek and flaming cheeks, she jumped up and slammed the book shut before yelling again and burying her face in her pillow. She lay there, sandwiched between blankets and cushions, and miserably stared out the window at the smattering of rain that had begun. She watched as each new raindrop landed on the glass and commenced making its way down in the customary segmented path. The little balls of water grew in size with each drop they encountered until they finally slipped off and splashed into the windowsill below. The gray skies, the faint tapping of the rain, and the comfort of her bed slowly caused her eyelids to droop. Before she knew it, she had drifted off into a deep sleep.

That was when she began to dream.

_He was standing there, poised like an archangel, on top of a small rowboat bobbing merrily along in an azure lake. Clusters of pale-leafed willow trees along the banks teased the water with their curling tendrils. The delicate fragrance of wildflowers wafted through the air, and a delicious gale blew through the small paradise, lifting the flexible arms of the greenery and delivering a little tremor through the lake's glassy surface. _

_As she stepped forward, his head whipped in her direction and a dazzling smile brightened his face ten-fold. With the blazing sun at his back like a halo and a distinct glimmer about his skin, he nearly took her breath away. With long, sure movements, he rowed the boat over to where she stood and extended his hand. As if in a trance, she accepted his offer and unsteadily stepped into the boat. She had just looked away from the hard musculature of his exposed upper body when a hand brusquely grabbed her by the chin and turned her head to face him. She opened her mouth in surprise, but before she could utter a syllable, he'd already swept in and covered her lips with his._

_And oh, but it was agony. It was the sweetest, softest, most delightful agony she'd ever known, but still it was agony. As his velvet mouth worked wonders on her with the most tantalizing of nips and caresses, she felt like she was sinking into a whirlpool of music and dripping honey. Pleasure seeped through every part of her body until she was left thoroughly blissful and oblivious to the alarmed chirps of the birds, the building undulations of the water, the escalating strength of the wind, the ominous creaking of the wooden boat beneath them. Her eyes fluttered as his hands lightly danced over her arms and back, plucking at parts of her dress as if she were a harp, crafting a melody that sung to her senses for sweet release. _

_But then, the music stopped. The winds grew ferocious, and the chattering of the birds had given way to the low rumbles of thunder echoing across darkened skies. He pulled back and smiled at her again, but this time, the smile was crooked and complacent. A bubble of panic rose within her as the boat began to heave turbulently through the silver-foamed waters that slashed through the air like serrated blades. She got to her feet and desperately tried to look beyond the thickening fog that had formed, and when she realized she could see nothing, she spun around to grab him by the hands and beg for him to do something._

_Upon observing her distress, he threw his head back and laughed just as a mighty bolt of lightning sizzled across the underbelly of the clouds. He pried off her hands and rotated her so that she had her back to him. With his soft, mocking laughter grating on her nerves, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her against him. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself, but with each passing jerk of the boat, she grew more and more petrified. When she finally let out a whimper, he bent his head next to her ear and crooned, "Relax, Granger. Just...relax."_

_And the next thing she knew, he'd thrown her into the roaring waters below, into a raging maelstrom that she, without a doubt, would not survive._

…

Draco enjoyed the cooling sensation his polished desk had on his forehead. As he sat there, hunched over a series of documents requiring his signature, he thought that it was a good thing he had Blaise as a partner. After all, if the day ever came that he had to hurl himself off a cliff because of another one of his idiotic mistakes, then he could just rest easy in a hot tub in hell knowing that Blaise would be there to carry on his life's work.

Why the fuck had he done that? Why the flying, flipping _fuck _had he done that? It was all, yet again, Blaise's fault.

After she'd stormed out (as usual) because of something he'd said (as usual), Blaise had approached him (as usual) and filled him in on some very critical information (need we say it, as usual).

"Draco," Blaise had said solemnly as Draco continued to stare at the spot where she had been a second before. "Draco, mate, you really ought not to have said that."

"Zabini, unless you're going to enlighten me with an actual reason apart from the fact that Granger has a natural proclivity to get her panties into a twist, I suggest you go the hell away."

Blaise had crossed his arms in annoyance and cut to the chase. "Her mother's essentially demented, Draco. After Hermione's father was killed in a car accident in Australia, her mother just gave up on everyone and everything. She's been institutionalized, but Hermione's had loads of problems trying to scrounge up the funds to pay for all the expenses. After the Mental Health Healers prescribed a bunch of anti-psychotic drugs, Hermione considered giving up her ambitious dreams of being a Healer to use the tuition money for her mother. You remember how she'd thanked you after her interview? Our company was her saving grace."

Draco had quietly paid attention to Blaise's words, and after his friend had retreated with a sigh, he knew what he had to do. He'd run outside and, on a hunch, stepped into a small garden that Blaise had had built to commemorate his late grandfather. There she'd been curled up on a stone bench with her face down and crystalline tears leaking through her fingers. He'd watched her sit there and cry with an ache gnawing at his chest. Why was he always the one to make her cry these days? She'd always been headstrong and impervious to his taunts during their school years, but it seemed that adulthood had loosened the tight grip she'd maintained on her emotions for so long. Now she spoke of unthinkable things like _friendship _and did terrifying things like touch him.

Why, she was nothing but a lunatic! Wasn't she?

...wasn't she?

She'd glared at him when he'd stealthily approached her, but the effect was diminished by the pain that swam in her limpid brown eyes. And when he'd held her down by her wrists and stood over her – Merlin, what _had _he been thinking? - he'd wanted nothing more than to kiss her then and there. Her soft hiccups as she'd fought to appear dignified had undone the taut knots in his heart, and he'd simply pulled her into his arms.

She'd fit so well. He'd never been the type to get his thrills from a mere embrace (he was more a "get to the goods" type), but at that moment, it felt like nothing could ever perturb his mind again. His heart had been pounding like mad the entire time, but he'd felt a rare calm as she'd gradually relaxed against his chest.

He could have stayed like that forever, but that was not to be.

The familiar voice of his secretary now rang tinnily from a minute speaker on his desk. Draco had to admit, those Muggles occasionally knew their stuff. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini has asked me to inform you that he is deciding to leave now, and that you are free to go, if you'd like. That is all."

Draco pressed a button and grunted out a response before galumphing into the fireplace with a briefcase in his hands and Flooing to his library at home. Sighing, he tugged off his tie and coat and draped the articles over the back of his armchair.

He summoned his personal elf and instantly thought of what Granger would say if she knew that his household had over ten house-elves lined up for duty. "Needy!"

The servile creature materialized immediately and scurried over to Draco while anxiously wringing a piece of cloth with his grubby hands. "Yes, Master Draco? How can Needy be of assistance, sir?"

"Bring me some soup and wine," Draco ordered. Granger's face flashed before him again. "Please."

Needy nearly went into conniptions at Draco's final utterance and bowed so low that his pointed nose was quite flattened against the ground. "Master Draco is too polite! Oh good gracious, Needy does not know what to do with himself!"

_How about just go and do what I ask?_

Draco coughed and pointedly fixed his gaze on a figurine on the mantel. Needy took the hint and, while continuously gushing and babbling, vanished with the characteristic _crack! _Draco reached for his briefcase and overturned the contents onto a coffee table, both eager and chary of what lay before him. He slowly lifted one of the pages off the table and stared at an image of him and Granger engaged in a pose from the photoshoot.

Blood rushed to a certain zone of his body as he once again lost himself in the lean stretch of her leg, the careless drape of her hair, the coy smirk that lifted a corner of her sinfully moist lips. The smooth hand that lingered upon his own seemed to be clutching at more than just his fingers – they ensnared the fringed ends of his soul and tangled in heartstrings he knew not he possessed.

He perused photo after photo with the quiet desperation of a man who believes that his source of obsession will soon be wrenched away. After Needy arrived with the food he'd requested, he downed the wine in three gulps and burned his tongue in his haste to chug the soup and return to the pictures at hand.

Cursing with abandon as he gingerly held his wretched tongue between two fingers, he came across a solo image of her that silenced him.

It was a moving picture, and must have been a candid shot. She was chatting animatedly with someone, and whatever the person replied with caused her to throw her head back and laugh heartily. Draco longed to hear the sound of that laugh and revel in its playful intimacy. As he watched her burst into merriment again and again, he thought of how she'd described her mother's laugh.

_Raw. Raucous. Free._

Suddenly agitated, he leaped up and tossed the photo aside, determined to stop thinking about her. However, she had provoked his body into thirsting for pleasure, into yearning for carnal satiation. Too long he'd been deprived of the comfort that only a woman could provide. He walked out of the library, through the endlessly long corridor, and into his room where, in his bedside drawer, lay a list of the names of certain _friends _he could call in times of need. He summoned Needy once more, gave him a few explicit instructions, and then used his wand to send an invitation to the first name his eye fell upon.

Within fifteen minutes, Needy appeared alongside a young woman dressed in what could politely be deemed "risque apparel." Her eyes were rimmed with outlandish blue eyeliner, and her lips were caked with a ruby red. Straggly blond hair tumbled down her back as she tossed her head, and her extremely long glossy nails were more akin to talons than anything else.

Needy stepped back and bowed, but when he straightened up, Draco could have sworn he'd seen a hint of reproach in the frail minion's bulbous eyes.

The woman moved forward with a click of her stilettos and Draco felt mildly repulsed by the grin full of yellowing teeth that she shot him. The exaggerated sway of her hips and the subtle roll of her shoulders did nothing to entice him, and by the time she'd neared the foot of his bed, Draco could see every ill-covered blemish that marked her pasty complexion.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy," she crooned in the seasoned way of her trade. "And how may I be of service tonight?"

Draco grimaced at her accompanying wink and felt the former surge of libido begin to abate. The more he examined the hooker, the faster grew the velocity of the food rising back up through his innards. She expertly crawled onto his sheets and advanced on her hands and knees, her expression lascivious. Once upon a time, Draco would have greedily gathered her into his arms and had his way with her, but tonight...this woman's presence held no allure.

She pouted and asked in a sing-song voice, "What's wrong, honey?"

He slipped off the bed and tucked his hands into his pockets. "I'm not really feeling it tonight."

The woman chuckled and settled on top of his covers, making sure to bare her cleavage as much as possible. "That doesn't sound like you, baby. All the girls tell me you're an absolute _beast _in bed. Do you want me to warm you up?"

Draco sullenly watched as her eyes gleamed naughtily. He pivoted to face his dormant fireplace and said, "Look, it's not working. You should just go."

She made a sound of outrage to which he responded by putting a pouch of coins before her and muttering, "Here, this should be more than enough compensation. Good night."

The woman slunk off the bed like a chastened animal and set aside the money with a frown. "Baby, come on, don't be like that." She wrapped her arms around him, seemingly blind to the disgust written all over his face, and trilled, "I'll make you see stars, baby!"

At that moment, Draco's bedroom door slammed open, and there stood Narcissa Malfoy burning with cold and regal fury.

_Fuck my life. _

Narcissa's livid eyes felt first on her son and then on the woman cowering behind him. With a few powerful strides, she crossed the room and curled her lip at the despicable ragamuffin that anxiously wiggled its beastly claws at her.

"I believe you are no longer required," Narcissa hissed with a venomous smile. In the blink of an eye, the girl snatched the coin purse off the bed and fled from the room as fast as she could, leaving Draco to shamefacedly stutter and squawk in front of his mother.

"Mother, I – I can explain..."

"You shall not speak a word."

Draco shut up instantly, and without further ado, Narcissa grabbed her ungrateful flesh and blood by the ear and dragged him to the nearest sitting room without so much as a wince as Draco howled and hollered for amnesty.

"Mother, I really am sorry!"

"Mother, please, could you please let go?"

"Mother, it hurts! OUCH!" (She'd delivered a sharp pinch to his earlobe as she'd grown rather sick of his bellyaching.)

Because he entered the sitting room in a haze of misery, Draco didn't initially notice Blaise sitting in one of the chairs. After his mother mercifully released him with a contemptuous scoff, he remorsefully massaged his ear and eyed the other man balefully.

"What?" he spat as he saw Blaise valiantly stifle his laughter.

His mother's voice was a poison-tipped arrow. "Draco Malfoy."

He immediately backtracked and addressed Blaise again. "Er, I mean, what brings you here, mate?"

Was it possible to die of ignominy? Draco thought he ought to take a crack at it.

His snake of a friend sniggered, "Well, I thought I'd come down to discuss an upcoming event with you, but it seems I may have come at a bad time."

Narcissa sipped her tea and smiled fondly at Blaise. "Oh no, it's nothing. Draco's just been inclined to make a fool of himself yet again."

Blaise began to nod sympathetically, but Draco cut in: "Mother, honestly, we didn't even do anything! She'd barely been there five minutes and I wasn't even planning on -"

Narcissa dipped a biscuit into her tea and seethed through gritted teeth, "Draco Malfoy, you will shut up before I find myself backhanding you across the face."

Draco clamped his jaw shut again and barely kept his irritation in check as Blaise all but bounced off the damn cushions with glee.

_I will fucking shove your teeth down your throat if you grin at me one more time, you son of a bitch._

Blaise grinned. Draco jumped to his feet. His mother glanced at him. He sat his ass back down.

"Now," Narcissa said as if there had been no interruption. "What were you saying, Blaise?"

"Ah, yes, so, I was thinking that it would be good to have some kind of celebration in honor of the successful project we've just executed."

"You mean, "Temptation?"

Blaise nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! You see, we've started quite a storm in the corporate world, and quite a few members of the company feel that some sort of event would help to cement our success and garner more publicity."

"And what do you have in mind?"

Blaise shrugged. "Well, nothing too ridiculously fancy. This is just a starting milestone, you see. I was thinking that we should do something that revolves around our two star models, seeing as it is because of them that the advertisements were such a great hit."

"What does Miss Granger have to say about this?"

"I haven't quite discussed it all with Hermione yet, Mrs. Malfoy, but if I know her, I know she'll be on board with the whole gimmick. She for one understands the concept of doing things for the sake of others."

Draco accidentally crushed a biscuit in his hand as Blaise said this and became engrossed in surreptitiously wiping the crumbs away on a cushion before his mother could catch him.

"I think a celebratory party would be just the thing," declared Narcissa. "And what's more, we'll have it here at the Malfoy Manor!"

Draco nearly pissed himself. This was it, the old woman had finally gone completely batty. Somewhere along the way, someone had mixed a little crazy juice into one of her countless cups of tea and here was the result: she was offering to hold a party in Malfoy Manor, residence of one of the most feared yet exalted families in all of Britain.

He opened his mouth to protest but Blaise was already vehemently pumping his mother's hand. "By Merlin, that's an excellent idea, Mrs. Malfoy! Thank you so much for your generosity!"

Narcissa laughed and shook her head. "No need to thank me, my dear boy. It'll be a good diversion for us all, and Merlin knows this house could use some joy."

Blaise sank into his chair with relief. "This takes care of so many issues. Now I don't have to worry about the venue or transportation or food..."

Draco couldn't stay quiet any longer, even if his mother was going to impale him with a sterling silver fork. He glowered at Blaise."Excuse me, but did you even consider running this by me privately?"

"And what purpose would that have served?" Narcissa inquired acerbically. "You would have done nothing but give up without a second thought."

He refused to back down so soon. "Be that as it may, sometimes I actually do have the right idea. Any kind of undertaking that takes place here is going to end in disaster. What's more, the paparazzi are going to be crawling over the premises if we hold a party here. You said, mother, that you didn't want to deal with that kind of crap anymore."

His mother frowned at his use of the word "crap" and calmly replied, "That was a long time ago, Draco. Frankly, I don't have a problem with the press anymore. They've published all the foul stories that they can, and I intend to finally show the world that we are as sociable as anyone else. We have nothing to hide and nothing to fear."

"It has nothing to do with fear," he said stonily.

One pair of silvery eyes flashed at another. "It has everything to do with fear! You are afraid of something, Draco. Tell me what it is."

Blaise, who had sat quietly up until that moment, quickly cleared his throat and slyly offered, "It's more of a 'who,' Mrs. Malfoy."

Draco almost lunged at Blaise to throttle him, but his mother threw him a highly intrigued look at this new revelation Blaise had delivered and thus distracted him. "Oh? Is that so? Of whom do you speak?"

Draco tried to smile sweetly at his mother as he protested, "No, no, mother! Blaise is just joking around. Isn't he?" He glared threateningly at the dark-haired goon with a prayer on his lips.

Blaise countered with an equally sugary smile and said, "Ah, no, mate. I'm not joking this time, believe it or not." He turned conspiratorially to his hostess and stage-whispered, "From what I've seen and heard, Mrs. Malfoy, Draco gets a bit on edge whenever a certain member of the Golden Trio is around..."

Narcissa pressed her fingers to her mouth and theatrically giggled. "You don't say! Am I to understand that this member is Miss Granger?"

"None other," Blaise finished with a flourish. "And...if you don't mind my saying so...I think they look quite good together."

"Blaise," Draco warned as he grabbed fistfuls of biscuits from a bowl beside him. A second later, the snacks had disintegrated in his palms. "Do not cross your limit."

_Unless you want me to thrust a carving knife into your pancreas._

Blaise rolled his eyes as he stood up to leave. "Oh, do shut it, Malfoy. Anyway, Mrs. Malfoy," he added with a bow in the smiling woman's direction, "thank you for all your help and your unfailing support. You never fail to brighten my day."

_Oh, Merlin, someone bring me a bucket so I can throw up._

Narcissa got to her feet as well and laid a hand on Blaise's shoulder. "You are very welcome, dear," she said warmly. "I always hold you in the highest regard as you are the only man who can keep my darling son's life in check. If you should need any assistance with plans or resources, do not hesitate in coming to me. I would be more than happy to aide you."

Blaise bowed again and ducked into the fireplace, but not before waving half-heartedly at Draco (who determinedly ignored the gesture). After he'd left, Narcissa faced her despondent son and clapped her hand once.

"Well!" she exclaimed. "It's high time I went to bed. I expect Blaise will be sending me the party details starting from tomorrow, so I ought to get as much rest now as possible."

"Mother," Draco pleaded, his pride having evaporated with his friend's departure. "You can't really expect this to happen. Blaise just has his moments where he blurts out whatever is lying around in his head. He doesn't think things through like I do, and I guarantee that this is a fiasco just waiting to occur."

"Darling, if you've been thinking things through for the past few weeks, then I'm a Russian gargoyle."

"Be serious, Mother!"

Narcissa sighed and patiently regarded Draco. "Listen to me, Draco. I am not a fool that I'm going to go off and prance among the centaurs because of a small celebration. I want to enjoy myself, and I want to prove to the world that we are not as reserved and snobbish as they think. But above all, I want this house to see a little light again. A little life. And if it means inviting a few of those media cretins, then so be it. As long as a little laughter can be heard within these walls, I am content."

With that, she glided out of the room and noiselessly closed the door behind her, leaving behind one very skeptical, very put out, and very concerned Draco Malfoy.

…

Narcissa perched on the edge of her luxurious four-post bed and silently combed her fingers through her flaxen hair. Beyond the window pane shone a portion of the moon, the stalwart watchman of the night, garnished with the pearly lace of clouds. She pulled her knees up to her chest and continued to stare at the moon, watching as it periodically hid its pockmarked face behind the opaque sheets that floated onwards.

How similar her life was to the moon. Scarred and battered. So hideously disfigured that it could not expose itself all at once – no, it found its comfort in quietly emerging bit by bit, so as to not shock the world with its stories. Stories of hurt, neglect, and solitude.

Lucius had dealt her most of the scars. She had been lured in by his smooth words of promise, and had married him under the impression that he would treasure her far beyond anything else in the world. He'd loved her for the first year, and then he'd started to change. Booming laughter morphed into enraged shouts. Tears that had never existed began to flow like a river between them. Whispers of love became whispers of harm.

Scar after scar disfigured her soul, until she thought she could be maimed no more.

And then, her little baby had been born. Draco, her Draco. Her own darling moonshine.

Draco had lifted her out of the dark like no other person ever could. His innocent curiosity, his unending delight at all things magical...everything he did somehow kept her afloat even as Lucius wreaked havoc with every step. Draco had been her sole companion. He had been her piece of heaven as she lived through hell.

And now, Lucius was gone. The only vestiges of his deranged power were her indelible scars and the pain he'd caused his only son. She'd cried for many nights after he'd died, but they had not been tears of sorrow, but rather, tears of insurmountable relief. The nightmare had finally come to an end.

Narcissa reached inside her robe and pulled out a faded, moving photograph that was luminescent under the milky moonlight. Her eyes fondly traced that smiling mouth, the pert nose, the sweet eyes that she knew were just as capable of shooting daggers as they were of shooting rose petals. She had kept this photo for a long time as a memento of the past, when hatred and suspicion had been the common elements of life. This face had been a beacon among the hooded visages that surrounded it. This child had not been afraid to laugh in the face of animosity and fight in the name of love despite all the trials she had faced. Narcissa had noticed this face long ago and had yearned to keep it close to her heart forever.

She slipped the photo onto a table at her side and laid her head down on her pillow. She looked up at the moon once more and thought again of how much its life seemed to mirror hers. The moon which had been scorned and left on its own was not much different from the woman who'd been shunned and abandoned by the world.

_But_, Narcissa thought defiantly, _I will not always be the moon. One day, there will be someone who will bring light back into this house, back into its name, and back into me. One day, I will have a new reason to live. One day, I will no longer be the moon._

_I will be the sun._

And as Narcissa closed her eyes in repletion, the girl in the photograph raised her red-and-gold scarf with a cheer, as if in answer to the words of a woman the world had long forgotten.

…

**Responses to Selected Reviews (but fear not, I read every single one, so if I don't reply here, it doesn't mean I didn't read it at all.)**

**Tom's riddles**: Thank you so much! Looking forward to your stuff ^_^

**Blair Cornelia Waldorf**: Your profile picture is KIM HYUN JOONG! -gazes adoringly at photo (Oh, and thank you for your praise, of course!)

**waterflower20**: Hehehe, I'm not about to tell you if you're right or not, dearie...

**synchrogirl44**: Thank you for being honest. I hope it didn't detract too much from the overall chapter.

**Emily**: You are too kind! I appreciate your compliments ^_^

**DracoAndMeliny**: I'm glad my writing can make you feel the emotions I want to convey. Thanks for reading and revewing!

**Guest**: Sorry, I just have an addiction to cliffhangers. They make life so much more interesting, don't you think?

**VenetianBlue**: Yeah, this is an AU story and I'm not big on keeping it relevant to the real HP books. Sorry if it's annoying :P BUT, thanks for your input, and WHOA, I swear I'm not stalking you, haha! That's just a case of serendipity, my dear. :D

**Ponytail**: I apologize for the long wait, but I do have a life, and many things to worry about at the moment. I don't enjoy being so delayed, but at least I try to keep the quality right for each chapter. I hope this suits you for the time being, and thanks for reading :)

**AND TO THE REVIEWER WHO MENTIONED MY REVIEW DEMANDS** (sorry, I can't find your username): I have stopped doing that now for a while. It's far better to just let people do what they want than dictate something like review count. If even one person wants to read my story, then that's all I need. Thanks for speaking your mind! :)

**Love you guys! PLEASE, leave me your thoughts?**


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